


The House of the Crimson Tiger

by ShinjiShazaki



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, The Count of Monte Cristo!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 93,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1987464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinjiShazaki/pseuds/ShinjiShazaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Locked away in the bowels of Utgard prison for something she can only guess at while her memories are destroyed time and time again, a woman lets her hatred for a noble house in the country of Sina fester and burn.  When she is given a chance to escape the prison, she adopts a name and seeks out the prestige and wealth of the House of the Crimson Tiger to lay waste the lands of her enemies.</p><p>She walks with no fear after her escape.  After all, if a bottomless purse of gold does not stop a man's tongue from flapping, she is quite happy to cut out that tongue herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Drink of Many Years

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love _The Count of Monte Cristo_ more than any book in the world, I decided to give in and finally do a story in this vein. My god it's fun so far.

She was no longer certain how many years it had been since her name became “1802.” She was no longer certain how many years it had been since she had forgotten her real name. Within the walls of the prison of Utgard, frigid and desolate on an island in a northern sea, she was not given information about time. They kept her in a cell devoid of anything but the traces of sun and moon that came in through air holes high above. They did not tell her what day, month, or year it was.

Even if she had been given a hint, her jailers visited her over and over and over with small black drinks just for her. She struggled every time, but they always managed to restrain her long enough to force it down her throat. It did not dull her body to leave her vulnerable to rapes or beatings, nor was it a poison. It ate at her mind, though she did not understand how. There was only one purpose to her drink: to devour her memories and leave her nearly empty.

She retained information for basic living and understanding the world she was no longer allowed to see. It would not do if she was unable to feed herself or understand and create speech. In her cell, so dark and quiet she could barely stand to talk to herself, she wondered if her jailers thought it would be too cruel to take everything from her. Perhaps it was just cruel enough to leave her there alone after every forced drink, panicking in the dark as her memories were taken from her. More often than not, she sobbed into her knees. Many other times, she screamed, desperate and bitter and raging, until her throat was raw.

All she could keep of herself through the drinks were her most basic feelings. At first she was lost, unable to comprehend how anything she knew could land her in Utgard. Later came despair, and after that came a slow creep of apathy. It all paled in comparison to the one feeling that could not be taken from her. With an intensity that allowed her to get to her feet and pace her cell, she loathed the Reiss household. After every drink, she knew this truth and all other truths of the world, and after every drink, she swore to herself that she would take what she had and dismantle everything.

She simply did not know how. Because she did not, she told herself to wait, and to hope.

————

It came through the large, flat stone she happened to have her left foot on. Weary from screaming and sobbing, she did not lift her head much. Again, the stone under her foot shifted. She moved her foot to stop feeling the stone, wanting to curl up and sleep. Soon after this, the stone lifted up entirely, propped up by human hands over a human head.

A man squinted at her, his bald head and beard lank and filthy. When she did not react, he set the stone gently aside and pulled himself out of the floor.

“Hello,” he whispered. “Sorry to barge in.”

She said nothing.

“Sorry,” he said again. “Twenty-five years in Utgard doesn’t help your manners. My name is Dot Pyxis.”

She turned bodily away, leaning against a wall, and said nothing.

“You’re the one who keeps screaming,” he said gently.

She did not look at him.

“May I ask what they’re doing to you? It doesn’t sound like you’re in pain when you scream—you’re just cursing everything under the sky in very elaborate language.”

After a long moment of silence, she muttered, “They’re destroying my memories.”

“I see. You must have known something rather dangerous.”

She did not reply.

“Have they taken your name as well?”

She barely managed to say, “I’m just eighteen-oh-two,” before breaking down into furious tears.

He did not move to hold her, only nodding with a grieved expression. Once she had gone numb and still, he said, “That won’t do. Everyone needs a name.”

“I won’t remember it after another drink of that black swill.”

“Ah ha,” he said, smiling slightly. From the waist of his dirtied trousers, he produced a small pencil and a folded piece of paper. “My prize for good behavior. I’ll give you them so you can write down your name—one you pick for yourself—and hide it somewhere so you can find it and remember. But,” he added, “I want something in return.”

She looked at him warily.

“I want your help continuing this tunnel,” he said, nodding at the hole in the floor. “By estimates, we could get out within three years if we combine our efforts.”

Hesitating, she looked at the floor. “If I help you, will you help me remember things about myself? The name I choose?”

“On my honor as a disgraced commander of Sina’s army,” he said, smiling enough that she could see it through the beard.

“Do you think you could help me figure out why I’m here?”

“In three years? I don’t see why not.” He glanced at the heavy door of her cell, but gave no sign of hearing anything beyond it. Slowly to keep her from startling, he offered the pencil and paper. “Do we have a deal?”

She reached out and took them. “Do we start now?”

“No, I think it’s best if we start fresh after some sleep. I’ll scrape the stone in its groove three times to tell you I’m here. Knock if it’s safe.” He slipped back into the hole, but paused in lifting the stone. “Be as careful as you can with those. If the jailers find them, it could kill us both.”

“I’m aware of that.” She watched him disappear beneath the stone. Even when she put her ear to the floor, she could not hear him moving. Glancing at her door, she went to her meager bed. With great care, she turned the pallet up and tore a hole in the underside of it near where she always sat. The paper was large enough to roll around the pencil, and she slipped them into the straw inside the pallet. She rearranged a few stiff pieces of straw to stand upright where her thigh would fall, knowing it would pique her curiosity when she forgot.

This done and the pallet set down carefully, she sat on her bed to one side and stared at the floor. Without speaking, she thought of every name she could pull from her mind. None of them felt correct; nothing spoke to her. She could not fully recall where the names came from in the world, and she could not be bothered to wonder where she had been born. In any case, she did not feel comfortable wasting the paper and pencil on guesses.

She knew it had been a few hours when the small gate in her door was opened. A hand reached in for her beaten metal food bowl and her waste bucket. She sat still and silent, only moving when the gate was closed and the jailer’s footsteps were gone. It was lumpy gruel again, but there was a scrap of meat in the bowl and it tasted like meat should.

Under the sound of her chewing, she heard stone rub on itself three times. She went to the stone and rapped on it sharply. The stone lifted as she stepped back, and Pyxis smiled at her when he appeared.

“Good, good,” he said, seeing her bowl. “Fuel for you. Though you still seem strong despite everything.”

She looked at her forearm. The muscles there did not seem feeble or diminished, but she could not tell how they had been before. With a dismissive flick of her fingers, she asked, “How does this work?”

He smiled again. “Finish your meal and bring your waste bucket.”

She saw no sense in being confused, and so did as he said in short order. When she returned with the bucket, he crooked a finger to beckon her into the hole with him. She lowered herself into it and pulled the stone over her. Sinking onto her belly, she followed him as he crawled through a tunnel. It led to a hole in another cell, and she looked at the moldy books and loose pieces of paper on the bed.

“Feel free,” he said. “Words are meant to be read.”

Tentative, not sure what would happen, she picked up a book and opened it. The words inside still made sense to her; reading had not been taken away. She wondered how long it had been since she smiled.

“When they make me forget again,” she murmured, “could you please remind me that you have books?”

“Of course.” He stroked his beard as he thought. “We should hide a note for you in your bed so you can read it after your sessions. I think it’d be better than me popping up out of your floor and scaring you over and over.”

“You didn’t frighten me,” she said, voice flat. “I don’t fear very much at all anymore.”

“Does that include death?” he asked.

“For the most part.” She set the book down gently, fingers lingering on the blue cover because it felt like what she imagined sunlight was. “How do we go about this?”

“Every day, we’ll go into the tunnel and chip away at the dirt and stone. I’ve played it safe and only taken as much as a thin layer on my palm. That’ll go into our waste buckets, which will get handily disposed of.”

“And the direction you’ve chosen won’t get us caught or killed?” she asked.

He shook his head and gestured to the gate in his door. “I’ve surmised that, based on the level and angle of sunlight I can see when the jailers come with food and to mock me, I’ve aimed the tunnel to the northeast. Utgard’s design has the prison hanging over a dock to the northeast. Breaking through there will allow us to seize a boat and be gone before the jailers notice.”

She exhaled slowly. “I’d say this relies on a lot of luck, but I don’t see what I have to lose.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said brightly. He reached out to pat her shoulder, but thought better of it when she flinched and bared her teeth in a snarl. “Excuse me. I did that a lot on the outside.”

She looked away, muttering, “Try not to do it with me.”

Pyxis nodded and went to fetch his own waste bucket. “Well, shall we get started?”

“All right.” She followed him back to the hole, going first to be able to dig. Though he warned her to be careful around rocks, she did not mind their sharpness against her fingers. She knew she would likely forget the sting after the next black drink.

————

There were rules to their partnership. Pyxis was not allowed to needle her regarding her past, but she was obligated to listen to his stories about his time as a soldier. He said it would be good to know, even when she forgot, as a counterpoint to whatever good upbringing she’d had to gain her lexicon. She had to be the one to write and leave notes for herself to remember things. They could leave nothing in each other’s cells other than the paper she took to hide in her bed.

To her, the most important rule was that Pyxis was not allowed to make any suggestions about her name. She did not know when she finally decided on either her first or last name. She had simply taken the roll of paper from her bed on waking at some point and found her name in her handwriting. There was a small note beneath the surname she did not understand right away: “use this house.” Turning the paper over revealed another note: “destroy reiss.”

The further they delved into the earth, the more tales Pyxis related to her. As he grew more open about exploits and his service to a noble who ferreted away his obscene wealth in secret, she found more and more notes to herself. She saw a plan that she was forming through the blankness in her mind and clung to it with all her might. On finally seeing the pattern, she spoke to Pyxis in the tunnels as she dug.

“You’re telling me all this so I can use it, aren’t you,” she said, passing a few pebbles to him.

He chuckled. “Of course. I don’t have any use for a massive hidden treasure. _You_ , knowing whatever you do with your instincts and hate, have a perfect reason to claim it all. I’ll make you another deal regarding that wealth.”

“What?”

“I’ll give you the location of the treasure if you swear to me that you’ll use at least some of it to be happy outside your vengeance.”

“How would I do that, Pyxis?”

“Oh, you’ll figure out what makes you happy after we escape. You’re a smart woman. But you could start with a good warm meal and a fine bed.”

She managed a smile as she passed him a few clods of dirt. “I could. You have my word.” When they stopped for his weariness, he gave her another piece of paper to write down where to find her future wealth. She tucked the paper into the waist of her ragged trousers, meaning to return to her cell. He coughed feebly; she froze.

“Have you been coughing for long?” she asked.

“No, no,” he said with a wave of his hand. “It’s just dirt in my throat, you know that.”

She hesitated.

“Go on,” he said. “It’s not like they’d give me medicine for a cough. Remember—I’m in here for sedition against the holy royal family. They’d be glad I’m sick.” He urged her toward the tunnel. “I’ll be fine. I _do_ wish I could get one last bottle of whiskey in my life.”

“We’ll get you one with gold coins,” she said. “Rest well until then, Pyxis.”

“I will. You too.” He sank down onto his bed, waving slightly as she pulled the stone over her. She hurried back through the tunnel to her cell, replacing the stone in her floor silently before finding her pencil. As quickly as she could, she added a note on the paper: “check pyxis in the tunnel.” With great unease, she hid the pencil and paper and lay on her bed.

Sleep did not come to her then, but she was unsure how much she really slept anymore. There was too great a risk in sleeping, as it left her too little time to reach if her door was opened. It was a wise decision when the locks turned and the door creaked inward. She was off her bed in a heartbeat, fighting the three massive jailers that came at her. One she gave a broken nose to; another screamed as she kicked his knee from the side to dislocate it. The third, though, swept in while her leg was still on the second’s knee, and he caught her around both wrists with heavy manacles on a chain.

She was wrenched off her feet, the man with a broken nose slamming his knees into her hips to pin her. Snarling, she pulled as hard as she could on the chain, but it was already shackled to the wall. Arms outstretched, she could not get leverage enough to throw off the man kneeling her.

“Get off!” she bellowed. “Get off of me!”

A man clicked his tongue at her from the doorway. He said, “Now, now, eighteen-oh-two. That’s no way to act to people giving you medicine.”

“It’s not medicine, you son of a bitch! Get that away from me!”

The man laughed quietly. “You’ve got a fire in you today. Let’s make it quick.”

She knew what was coming and closed her mouth as tight as she could. Two hands closed around her throat, squeezing hard. Desperately, she tried to brace against what came next. She could not keep from gagging and gasping when her neck was released and her throat was jabbed with three fingers. They caught her by her upper and lower teeth, pouring the black drink down her throat when she swallowed on instinct. She would not have been able to spit anything out when they slammed her mouth closed, but it had been timed perfectly and she could not cough the drink back up. The fury did not leave her, but the fight vanished when she understood her failure.

“There you are,” the man said as her wrists were unchained. “All better.” They left her alone as she curled up on the floor, hands on her head. Everything she knew from the previous hours disappeared, and soon after the rest was gone as well. She struggled in vain to hold onto anything, crying and shaking.

If she passed out, she was unaware of it. She eventually looked up, face sticky from tears and dirt. Looking at the door showed her that food was in her bowl. Part of her wanted to scream every curse she could think of and beat the bowl against the door until it lost its shape. She ignored it and got up, taking the bowl to her bed.

On sitting, she felt something jab into her thigh. Jabbing back did not break what she thought was straw, and she ate quickly to get to turning the pallet back. She discovered the pencil and the papers with notes in her handwriting. Each note was read with more urgency to work at memorizing them. When she reached the very last note on the back of a page detailing a location, she gathered all the notes and went into the tunnel she’d written of. One path led to a wall yet to be scraped through, but she had to stop short on coming to the other end.

“What do you think it was?” asked a voice above the floor.

“Body gave in from old age and all his drinking before here. How else do you explain finding him in bloody shit and vomit?”

She sank down to sit on the floor of the tunnel and stared up at the stone above. A vague sense of loss came to her, and it grew slightly when she thought of the location she’d memorized. The voices stopped speaking soon after, but she waited a few minutes before emerging. A length of canvas was wrapped around a body on the bed. She unwrapped enough to check the body’s face. It came as no surprise that she did not recognize him, but she knew his name from her notes.

The first thought that came to her was that he would be buried at sea in such a coffin. The second thought made her whisper, “Forgive me,” before unwrapping him entirely and taking him back to her cell. She arranged him on her bed, back to the door, and set her bowl and waste bucket near the gate.

As she hurried back to his cell and wrapped herself tightly in the canvas, she thought her heart was strange for not pounding. She saw no reason to complain, as she was able to go limp and still when the jailers returned and carried her out of the cell. Barely breathing, she mentally recited everything on the notes in her clothes until it was all burned into her mind.

The jailers’ boots left wooden floorboards and trekked out onto dirt and stone. She felt a hard wind through the canvas. The jailers shuffled in a turn, stopped, and began to swing her. On a count of three, they heaved her out into the air. It was a fall long enough to let her wonder why they had not put weights on her to help her sink.

Hitting the water felt as though she had broken multiple bones while her lungs seized up. A current swept her along underwater, fast and churning. She regained her senses and pulled free of the canvas. Swimming with skill she did not know she had, she came above the surface to gasp for air. It was dark overhead; there were no stars to guide her.

Panic started to creep into her. Turning back only gave her the sight of Utgard’s shadowy mass. The current continued to carry her away, and she decided to let it do so for as long as it would before swimming on her own. She floated along, head tilted and legs lifted to keep water off her face.

Hours passed, or so it seemed. The sky lightened enough with the dawn to show the iron color of the clouds below the sun. Despite the water growing slightly warmer, she was becoming aware of how much effort it was to keep afloat. There was no land in sight; she did not know if the current would ferry her to any shore at all.

Her eyelids were drooping when rain began to fall. She jerked awake at the distant roll of thunder, twisting to check where the storm was. Bringing her legs down made her body falter, and her head slipped underwater. Scrambling, paddling frantically, she got back above the surface. It became her struggle when the current grew choppier.

Over and over, she went under the surface. Coughing out the water in her throat took as much energy as getting back above the waterline. Waves came in as the storm strengthened and forced her down more often. The saltwater blinded her and stung every part of her skin. Inside her mind, she chanted the things she knew and screamed her chosen name to keep from sinking further. She grit her teeth and lunged back for the surface one last time.

Her fingers struck wood and a rope going through it. She clawed at it, grabbing it and pulling herself above the water. Eyes cleared for a moment, she saw that she was clinging to a large, thick disc of wood with a rope knotted through it to make a seat.

“Hang on down there!” a woman’s voice shouted from above. “Get on that and hold tight!”

Somehow, she managed it. As she was hauled up on the seat, she realized she was shaking violently. Hands caught her when she was in reach, pulling her over a railing onto the safety of a ship’s deck. Getting onto her feet was too difficult a concept; she collapsed onto her side to cough up more water.

“My _God_ ,” said the same woman. “Are you—dammit, Hanji! Hanji, get dry blankets before she freezes!”

When the hands caught her again, she flinched and choked, “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m not going to do anything to you except help you get out of the rain. Come on, just under the flying deck.”

She pushed herself along at the hands’ guidance, flinching again when the rain stopped. She was propped up against a wall before the hands drew back.

“All right,” the woman said. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

She blinked because her eyes burned. It was only when she lifted her head that she felt the blood running down her face. A woman with reddish-brown hair knelt before her, sodden from the rain and eyes wide with shock.

“Just hang on,” the woman said. “Hanji’s our medic and they’ll be back with blankets any minute.” Her hands rose from her knees, but she put them back down when she was scowled at. “My name is Petra Ral. You’re on board the Survey. Can you tell me what happened?”

She said nothing. Her stomach was roiling from the seawater and she could not stop shivering.

“Can you speak at all?” Petra asked.

She looked down.

“Oh, I think she can talk,” a man said in a drawl.

Petra looked up, going pale. “Captain Levi, sir. She was going to drown in the storm—we couldn’t let that happen.”

He sighed noisily. “I wasn’t aware we were bringing _outlaws_ on board out of mercy.”

“An outlaw, sir?”

“Look at her. Filthy rags for clothes, caked-on dirt all over her, hair nearly to her waist.” He nudged her foot with his boot. “You got out of Utgard somehow, and I’d wager you rode the current all the way from there. Sound about right?”

She said nothing. He clicked his tongue and reached down to grab her hair. Too weary to snarl, she caught him by the wrist and slammed him facedown on the deck with her knee in his spine. Before she could break his arm, Petra shot forward and pressed a blade to her throat.

“Let go,” Petra said, voice low but even. “Now.”

She did so slowly, settling back against the wall once more. Levi groaned as he took to his feet.

“Well,” he grumbled. “You still have teeth, then.” He did not continue, glowering at her as she glowered right back.

A door burst open on their other side, and a person wearing fogged up glasses sprang out with a number of blankets in their arms. “Here we are, dry and ready to warm her up!” They paused when they noticed Petra’s knife and Levi’s expression. “Ah. Well. The blankets are right here.” They crouched down and set the blankets down within her reach.

She glanced at the blankets but made no move.

“Just _take_ them, for God’s sake,” Levi grumbled. “I’m not going to take you back to Utgard.” He turned and said, “Get her to talk and stick her with the cabin boys. We can dump her at Trost.” He left to climb onto the flying deck.

Petra sighed and put her knife away. She spoke more gently from then on. “Go ahead. If the captain says you won’t go back, you won’t.”

She hesitated, but reached out and pulled the largest and heaviest blanket around herself. The shivering slowed, but she still felt sick.

“Will you let Hanji take a look at you?” Petra asked. “Or once you’ve warmed up a bit?”

“It’s all right,” Hanji said when she glared at them. “I doubt I’ll do much more than take care of that gash and see if you’re emaciated.” They considered her, drumming their fingers on their chin. “I don’t think so. You seem to have kept your youthfulness through whatever you went through in Utgard.”

Petra gaped at them. “Hanji. She’s not—”

“What, you mean the silver in her hair? No, I don’t think she’s much older than…well, maybe not even forty. How long were you in Utgard?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Did you hit your head in your escape?” Hanji asked.

“No,” she said. “They forced me to swallow a black liquid to make me forget things.”

Hanji hummed, brows rising. “That’s something I haven’t heard of in a long while.”

She wanted to feel hope from their words, but did not give in. “There’s no reversing it, I assume.”

“No,” Hanji admitted freely. “You’ll have to live from here. At least you’re not a decrepit old woman. And on the positive side, you won’t be tempted to go back to your old life because you don’t know—”

Petra reached over to pinch Hanji’s side hard enough to make them yelp. “Do you at least know your name?”

She nodded, working it out on her tongue for what she knew was coming.

“What is it?” Hanji asked.

She told them, “My name is Mikasa Ackerman.”

————

One of the two cabin boys she was sent to bunk with was breathlessly excited over her name.

“House Ackerman!” said Eren Jaeger. “The house of the crimson tiger, said to have produced the strongest warriors in the world!” He peered at her as he handed over some of his spare clothes. “You don’t really seem like it looking like that, though.”

She did not bother humming flatly, only starting to pull her rags off. The way he blushed and spun away did not make her pause. The clothes felt silken on her skin, and the rough wooden chair Eren brought for her was more comfortable than anything she knew. Sitting there in the warm cabin in real clothes, she wondered if she was dead. As her shivering continued, she figured her heart was still beating to work against the cold.

“Um,” Eren said, seeing her shake. He looked about before hurrying to a hammock on one side of the cabin. From inside it, he retrieved a long crimson scarf. When he looked as though he would wrap it around her, she scowled at him. He paled, but offered the scarf anyway.

“It’ll help you look like you should,” he said. “Same color as your house.”

She took it slowly and wrapped it around her neck. It helped greatly; she let her spine relax. After a few beats of silence, she looked at him and asked, “What kind of ship is this? It doesn’t seem like a merchant vessel.”

“A smuggler’s ship,” he replied with no shame. “We sail this close to Utgard to avoid royal ships.”

“How old are you and the other boy to be working as smugglers?”

“Seventeen. Is, uh, that how old _you_ were when—”

“ _Never_ ask me that question or any other like it. Do you understand me?”

He winced at the sharpness of her voice and the deep fury in her eyes. He swallowed, squared his shoulders, and asked, “Why not?”

She stood up. She advanced on him, catching his shirt when he tried to back away. Natural as breathing, she knocked his feet out from beneath him and threw him to the floor to plant her elbow in his chest.

“Because if you remind me of the fact that I don’t know how long I was in Utgard, how old I am, or what my face even _looks like_ ,” she hissed, “I will smash your head on a rock until you know even less than I do. Do you understand me?”

He struggled to lift her arm enough to breathe and speak. Through grit teeth, he said, “No! You can’t just push it away! If you forget how pissed you are, you can’t fight back against the bastards who did it! _Be_ pissed! Fight them!”

It pleased her more than she would’ve thought. Her scowl abated and she lifted her arm. Eren coughed and wheezed, tears of pain in his eyes.

“God,” he rasped. “I see you being a warrior now.” He coughed again and said, “Sorry. I won’t ask any—”

“I was prepared for people trying to dissuade me from getting my vengeance,” she said. “Why are you telling me to move forward?”

Eren looked at her with raised brows. “How the hell could I say that? You’ve got a reason to kill every person who left you to rot. And take your memories, it sounds like.”

She looked at him steadily, no heat or rage. Her eyes dropped as she went back to the chair. Quietly, she said, “That’s what happened, yes.”

He sat up properly, thinking and rubbing his chest. He said, “Hey.”

“What?”

“You said you don’t remember your face. Me and Armin, um, have a mirror in our trunk over there. Everyone does on the Survey. Do…do you want to look?”

A peculiar anxiety gripped her bones. Her throat closed up to stop her answer, but she nodded with little hesitation. Eren smiled and got to his feet to rummage in a trunk bolted to the floor. From inside it, he retrieved a mirror wrapped in thick cloaks, large enough for a person to see their entire face. She stiffened as he came closer, keeping her eyes open when he held it out for her to look.

Predictably, her eyes first went to the stitched up gash high on her right cheek. She then looked at her own eyes and felt herself smile. They were deeply gray, clear with focus and warm as she looked at herself. She did not mind that they were underscored by dark marks of little sleep. They were her eyes, her own eyes that she somehow recognized and instantly cherished.

From there, she examined her skin and the bones beneath them. She was pale, on the edge of sallowness, and the bones of her cheeks were high and made a fine arch. Most of her hair was black as ink, but it was shot through with streaks of dark silver, widest at her temples. It was a face that had lost some of its handsomeness in the dark and dirt, but she knew at a glance that she could reclaim it. It was a face that could match her name.

“Thank you,” she said.

Eren smiled again and put the mirror away. “You really look like a countess when you smile.” He sat down in front of her, but out of reach. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen yourself, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t know how many years.”

Hesitantly, he asked, “Did they take why you were there?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I knew something they couldn’t risk letting the world discover. Or the world the Reiss house lives in.”

“‘Reiss’?”

“You…don’t know them?”

He saw the way her shoulders slumped and quickly said, “I don’t pay attention to a lot of family names, but I’ll bet my knife that Armin knows! He’ll be back with food for you soon, so ask him, okay?”

She said nothing and found it was soothing to rub her thumb on a tail of the scarf. They waited in silence only briefly before someone knocked on the door by way of kicking at its bottom. Eren opened the door to let in the fair-haired boy she had seen before. He smiled at her and came close to hold out a large piece of bread. When she took it, she found it was heavy and the top had been cut off and replaced.

“Here,” the boy said, offering a dented spoon. “Be careful taking the top off—Sasha filled it as much as she could.”

She did as he said, finding the bread was a bowl holding a thick stew. Her mouth watered the moment the scent reached her nose. Swallowing, she started to eat. The seasoning was remarkable, and she took pleasure in the fact that should could name a few of the spices. As the level of the stew dropped, she picked off bits of the soaked bread. She held them on her tongue to savor the taste of real food.

Halfway through the bowl, she noticed that the blond boy was watching her closely. Without looking up, she said, “It’s Armin, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes ma’am, Armin Arlert.”

“Why are you watching me?”

“Just thinking, I suppose.”

“About what?”

“The state of the Ackerman house if their daughter was condemned to Utgard like that.” He sighed softly. “I wonder what you knew.”

“Something about the Reiss house,” she said. “Eren said you might know who they are.”

He blinked, brows going to his hairline. “Reiss? That’s—that’s strange. I’ve only known them as another noble house. Dukes and duchesses. Very, very odd that they’d do that to another noble house.”

“That makes sense to me,” she said. “I must’ve known something that would’ve disrupted their power.”

“Figures,” Eren grumbled. “Nobles are always like that. Know anything about them and that’s it for you.”

“What _is_ the state of the Ackerman house without me there?” she asked.

Armin looked down as he thought. “I’m not entirely sure. We don’t get news of them almost at all.”

Her brows dropped. “I see.” She exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure how I’ll get there with no money.”

Armin tilted his head. “Ma’am, may I ask you a question?”

“I’m certain you’ll do it even if I tell you ‘no.’”

Quietly enough that only she and Eren could hear him, he asked, “You’re not really an heir of the Ackerman house, are you?”

Eren went pale and dragged Armin well out of her reach. “Don’t ask her that, you dumbass!”

She looked up, leaning against the back of the chair. Her frown was faint, as was her voice. “Why do you think that?”

“You don’t seem to be comfortable with your name. And I don’t think the jailers would’ve left you with your name if you were part of a powerful and respected house. They would leave you with nothing to make sure you couldn’t work against the Reiss family.”

She picked off a large piece of bread and chewed it to think without speaking. She swallowed and said, “You’re too smart for your own good. It’ll get you killed at some point.”

Eren gaped. “You—wait, no, what?”

Armin shushed him. “Not so loud. I don’t want to expose her.”

“And why’s that?” she asked. “It would save your ship food if you threw me back into the sea.”

“Because I think you’re trying to do something righteous,” Armin said. “I don’t want you to get stopped right when you start.”

“Do you have a grudge of your own against the nobles?” she asked. “It would explain your current profession.”

They both blanched. Armin muttered, “Um, well…more or less.”

“I assume ‘more,’” she said. “What is it?”

Eren frowned and rubbed the back of his head. “We’re from Shinganshina. It was a small port city for ships going between Liūtas and Sina. Ever since we were kids, the nobles kept raising our taxes and tariffs, but not what our merchants could get paid.”

“And so your city revolted,” she said.

“Yes,” Armin said with a nod. “The nobles quelled it with violence and a compulsory draft into the military. Shinganshina was abandoned. We signed on for the Survey three years ago to smuggle things out of Sina to undermine the nobility and the crown.”

She felt the urge to laugh and allowed herself to smile. “Not the most effective way to do that.”

“And what are _you_ gonna do with no money and a fake identity?” Eren grumbled.

“It’s not fake at all,” she said easily. “It’s who I am now. While I did not exist before, I am Mikasa Ackerman and that won’t be changing. My poverty, however, will change.”

“How’s that?” Eren asked.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” Mikasa replied. She gave him the bread. “You can split the rest if you like.”

Eren scowled, cords rising in his neck, but Armin gripped his shoulder to keep him where he was. Armin swallowed hard and asked, “What if we make it our concern by helping you?”

“I fail to see how I need your help,” she said, brow raised.

“We could help you get to the Ackerman estate,” Armin said. “And help you appear as a noble.”

“How?” she asked. “Are you offering to be my servants?” She smiled again. “I suppose it wouldn’t be much of a change from your lives now.”

“That would work, don’t you think?” Armin said. “You wouldn’t have to try and hire anyone straight away, and going into society with servants who know you in _some_ way will improve your image.”

She exhaled through her nose. “I’d be better off with no one who knows me.” Thinking, she drummed her fingers on her knees. “Then again, I wouldn’t have to worry about you two letting it slip if you were in my employ.”

“I could hit people for you,” Eren said. “So you don’t have to. And—and Armin could help you plan things.”

“You’re strangely eager to get out of your service on this ship. Why is that?”

“I’m sick of still being a cabin boy after three years,” Eren said. “And I think you’ll do more to fuck with the nobles than smuggling military hardware.”

“I intend to.” She looked up and to one side to consider a thought. “Military hardware is your trade to ply? This isn’t a very large ship for that. How much does your captain struggle with money?”

Eren blinked and turned to Armin. “Does Commander Smith even pay Captain Levi with more money than our wages?”

“No, it’s just our wages and supplies for expeditions.”

“What would your captain do if I offered him a bargain?” Mikasa asked. “You two enter my service and I become a patron of his crew. An alliance for the future.”

“I…think he’d agree,” Armin said. “He gets frustrated enough with Eren to threaten to throw him overboard. Daily.”

“Then we may have a deal easily enough,” she said. “How much do you two have stored away?”

“Enough to get us to the estate if we port in Trost like we’re scheduled,” Armin said. “Is that where you’ll find money?”

“It is.” She waved her hand slightly. “Go fetch your captain, please. I’d like to strike our deal as soon as possible.”

“But we won’t reach land for nearly a week,” Armin said.

“Why on earth should I wait for that?” Mikasa asked. “I want to make the offer now. Please bring your captain here.”

They looked at each other before Armin said, “Yes ma’am,” and quickly left. With nothing else to do, Eren devoured the rest of the stew and the bread. It was not long at all before the door was thrown open and Levi stormed in.

“I see the rain has stopped,” Mikasa remarked, seeing Levi’s cloak.

“What makes you think you can make any offers to me when my crew pulled you out of the sea?” Levi said in a low, dark voice. “Especially when you were there after breaking out of Utgard.”

“Because I can become a patron of yours and provide you with a supplemental income,” she replied. “Do you doubt the wealth of my house?” She smiled. “And if you’re concerned about losing two sailors, I’m certain you could entice new hands with the money I’ll give you.”

“Are you carrying this money in some magical invisible bag?” Levi asked, sneering.

“Of course not. Give me one month to put my affairs in order. After that, you may send an envoy to my estate to claim your first payment. I promise it will be worth your while.”

His sneer grew heavier. “This coming from the woman who tried to break my arm?”

“In my defense, you tried to grab me suddenly. You must forgive me. I’m used to people destroying my mind when they grab me. I’m learning to suppress the defensive urges I feel in that situation.”

He said nothing for a time. His brows lowered further. “I expect unmarked gold.”

“Of course,” she said. “Better to launder.” She held out her hand. “Do we have a bargain, Captain Levi?”

He caught her hand and shook. “Take the shitty brats and get off my ship when we get to Trost.”

“As you wish, sir,” Mikasa said. “I look forward to funding your work.”

He clicked his tongue before leaving and slamming the door behind him. Eren and Armin stared at it anxiously a moment longer before turning to Mikasa. She took off the scarf and set it gently aside.

“Eren, you said you had a knife, correct?” she asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

She lifted a lock of her hair. “I’d like your assistance with this before we reach the port.”

“Oh, sure. Wait, we’ve got scissors in the trunk. Sit back.” He retrieved the scissors as she relaxed. “Okay, how much off?”

“Leave enough for a short tail I can tie back, if you would.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said cheerfully. He set to work, cutting and trimming. Mikasa sat by with her eyes closed, breathing slowly. She only opened her eyes again when Eren touched her shoulder. Armin stood by with the mirror. She examined the cut carefully, smiling at the relief of the removed weight.

“Thank you,” she said. “This is much better.”

“Get the right type of ribbon and you’re one step closer to looking like your house,” Armin said, smiling. “You’re already well on the way with how well you speak.”

“Small fortunes, I suppose,” Mikasa said. She chuckled as she put the scarf back on. “It’s an excellent beginning to rebuilding my house for myself.” Her smile lost all human warmth as she murmured, “And I will make the Reiss family _suffer_ while it crumbles under my foot.”


	2. Memories, Lingering and Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trost is reached in short order, and Mikasa, Armin, and Eren set out on their journey to the principality of Stohess and the Ackerman estate therein. Walking the miles of the commerce road headed southeast, fragments of Mikasa's mind begin to resurface, and she deals with the confusion it brings her as best she can in the hope that she can gain more.
> 
> When they arrive at the capitol city of Xenten, home of the Ackerman estate, something begins to claw at her, something she does not understand but drives her to the manor to see who dwells there now. She is brought before a young woman, and she is utterly shocked to find that a part of her finds this woman, this beautiful woman named Annie, incredibly familiar.
> 
> Her shock only grows when Annie recognizes her on the spot.

Even more than interacting with other human beings that did not wish her much harm, Mikasa found it was difficult to get used to wearing shoes. She was grateful for the warmth they gave her toes, but the weight of the boots the crew found for her made her stumble more times than she liked.

Armin, already settling into his future role, fussed when he saw this and helped her refine her gait. Eren directed vicious glares at anyone who looked too curiously too long. When they retired for the evening four days later, Mikasa sat and carefully rubbed at her legs to soothe the sting in her muscles.

“We don’t have enough to buy a horse for the trip to the estate,” Armin said, counting out the money tucked away in his and Eren’s trunk. “We need to budget for food and inns.”

“That’s fine,” Mikasa said. “I need to walk more. As long as we can get me a knife at some point before we set out, I’ll be all right.” She untied the boots to pull them off. She rolled up her trouser legs to massage her calves, but paused at the sight of scars, faded with time that she had not noticed before. “I wonder how I gained these.”

“It works for you,” Eren said quietly. “House Ackerman is a house of warriors, right? It’ll help you as much as you kicking everyone’s asses.”

“That’ll be your job soon enough,” she said. “But I’ll need the knife as backup.” She sighed and worked her way up to her thighs, grateful that the sting was lessening with each day passed. “How long will it take to get to the estate?”

“Two weeks if we make good time,” Armin said. “Three if we rest at inns often.”

“There’s no need for that,” Mikasa said. “I’d prefer to get home as soon as possible. Besides, I’d like to feel grass again.”

“It’ll be fresh grass,” Eren said. “We’re heading into summer.”

Mikasa considered this. “My home is somewhere warm?”

“Yeah,” Eren said. “It’s a nice seaside estate to the east. Lots of sun.”

She smiled. “It’ll be nice to be in the sun.” She stood slowly and climbed into the hammock that she was using. From the corner of her eye, she watched Eren and Armin fumble about, each trying to urge the other into the other hammock. It was a nightly ritual, and they grew more embarrassed every night.

“Why in God’s name are you two acting like that?” Mikasa asked. “Is the hammock unable to support the both of you?”

“Um,” Armin said, flushing all the way up his ears, “we, um, don’t want to offend you.”

She raised a brow, mouth flat. “With what, precisely?”

They said nothing, both bright red and unable to look at her.

“Consider this yet another opportunity to teach me something,” she said. “What would offend me about you two sharing a hammock?”

“Well,” Eren said, “we’re…um, both men.”

She frowned at them. “Let me make myself clear. I’ve spent long enough trying to guess things that should not, under any circumstances, be kept from me. If I ask you a question, I expect that you’ll answer me directly. What am I supposed to be offended by?”

“We’re—”

“And if you use any euphemisms, I will come hit you both.”

Eren’s brows dropped. He mumbled, “We’re lovers.”

Mikasa looked at them with her brow still raised. “Yes, I know. I’m not blind, and you’re not that skilled at hiding when you kiss each other good night. You’re telling me that I’m supposed to be offended by you two sleeping in the same hammock?”

They finally looked at her, eyes wide with shock. Armin swallowed hard and said, “The church in Sina is, um, very condemning of same sex couples.”

She looked at them blankly. “For what reason?”

“They _say_ it’s an affront against God, but they just want to propagate their faith through the birth of more believers-to-be,” Armin said. “Since we can’t produce children on our own, they call us wretched sinners.”

“And what exactly will they do to you if they discover your relationship?”

“Call you a disgusting sinner,” Eren said, “and fine you so much that it’d be easier to lie and marry a woman. God forbid they found out that you’re having sex with your partner—commoners like us get thrown straight into prison for at least one year.”

She looked at them a moment longer before settling more firmly in the hammock. “Do you know if the Reiss family has ties to the church?”

“I don’t…really know,” Armin said. “Maybe?”

Mikasa hummed, pulling her scarf slightly higher. “We’ll learn about it later on. But I want you to know that you are free to do as you will with each other once we get home and I find my wealth.”

“Wait, really?” Eren asked.

“I see no reason to discourage your happiness. If someone decides to disrupt that, I’ll take care of it. I will gladly free you of that fear.” She looked at them from the corner of her eye again. Seeing Armin twisting his fingers and smiling nervously, she added, “Don’t try to hug me. Go to sleep.”

“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison. Eren got in first, Armin settling on top of him. Eren dropped off to sleep within minutes, but Mikasa knew that Armin was still awake. His eyes were too heavy on her to ignore.

“I was under the impression that you wouldn’t be watching me for signs of an escape attempt,” she murmured. “I have nowhere to escape to.”

“Oh,” Armin said, sounding shamefaced. “No, that’s not it. I’m worried you’re not getting enough rest. Neither of us want you to catch a cold because you’re not sleeping. Or worse yet, pneumonia from all the exposure to the cold and the wet.”

She turned slightly to look at him. “You honestly feel concern for me when we’ve only just met? Even if you’ve agreed to be my servants, it feels strange to me.”

His smile was visible to her in the dark. “I think you might not have been used to affection even before Utgard. Don’t worry—we’re not lying to you. But please try to rest. We all need to at least _look_ healthy to pass as a noble and their staff.”

Mikasa looked at the door, checking that it was still locked and barred. She looked back to Armin. “Wake me if there’s any trouble.”

“Of course, milady. Rest well.” He closed his eyes and relaxed, falling asleep soon after.

Mikasa could not decide if she would follow him or not. She stared at the ceiling, all too aware of how her eyes were able to see whether it was dark or light. Four days on from her escape, she had only slept a handful of hours throughout. It was not for lack of comfort, as the hammock did wonders for her back that she hadn’t known she needed.

Her heart and mind were still ready for the door to open and the black liquid poured down her throat. She could not breathe when she dwelled on this, and she pulled the scarf up and over her nose to focus on its scent. It was full of her warmth, but the traces of Eren on it were fading. A part of her wanted to slip into the galley and ask Sasha if she could take just a pinch of some spice to spread on the scarf to absorb its smell.

Somehow, the slow rocking of the ship and the knowledge that Armin and Eren were not creeping closer became enough after a long while. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. She slept without dreaming, for which she was always grateful. When she woke, it was without someone grabbing her. She opened her eyes, blinking at the ceiling. She turned at the brief scrape of a chair leg on the floor. She looked up in time to see Eren wince.

“Sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to wake you.”

“It’s all right. I woke before that.” She looked about. “Where’s Armin?”

“Talking to Petra. He wanted to see if she thought we’d reach Trost early with the wind—she’s a great navigator, so she always knows stuff like that.” He went to the trunk, picking up a small loaf of bread and a large orange. “Want breakfast?”

She nodded, rolling to get out of the hammock. Though she took the food and sat on the chair, she decided to smell the orange first. It was intensely sweet, aromatic to the point that her hunger spiked.

Eren heard her stomach growl and grinned. “That’s a little older, so think about what we’ll be able to pick on the road. Sweet fresh berries and apples all along the road.”

“Will there be green things?” she asked quietly. “I can’t even picture grass and tress now.”

He said nothing for a moment, and she knew she had let wistfulness seep into her voice. He moved closer very slowly and reached out even slower. The way he touched the top of her hand was light and timid, and she decided she liked the contact enough to not push him away.

“There’s gonna be a ton of green stuff,” he said. “And the road’s probably going to look gold in the sun. They sky’s going to clear up when we land, and you’re going to see real blue again. And then we’ll get home and you’ll see real gold.”

She smiled. “You’re not quite a poet, but you’re earnest enough to sound like it. Thank you, Eren.”

He grinned. “No problem.” He moved away to let her eat, occupying himself with packing and rearranging the two rucksacks he and Armin own and the third that they had been given for Mikasa. When someone knocked on the door, he got to his feet to open it. Armin was outside, grinning massively and carrying a knife in a sheath that could be tied to a belt and a long red coat.

“Petra said that we’re going to reach Trost this afternoon because of the wind!” he said, coming inside. “And Hanji said they could spare these for you to have! Here, try them on!”

Mikasa dusted her hands off and stood. She took the coat and pulled it on carefully. It was heavy on her shoulders in the best way, not at all threadbare. There was no adornment to speak of, neither on the chest nor the back, and its lining was a silken black. She smiled because it fit her perfectly, heavy cuffs at her wrists and the bottom hem reaching halfway down her calves.

“What are smugglers doing with a coat like this?” she asked, adjusting her scarf beneath the high collar.

“We like stealing from the aristocracy, too,” Eren replied.

“Ah, excellent.” She took the knife and tied it to her belt, hiding it under her new coat. She put her boots on, tying the laces without fumbling. Standing straight, she held her arms out to the side for inspection. Armin and Eren looked at her closely, examining her white button-down shirt and black trousers as well.

“That should work for this part of the trip,” Armin said. “You don’t look like you escaped Utgard at all.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she replied. “Has land been sighted?”

“Probably soon,” said Eren. “Petra should be steering right now, so I think she’ll let you look for land with her.”

“Then I’ll join her so you two can do your last bits of work here.” They all went out and headed to the deck. The sky was still covered in dark gray clouds, and brisk, warming wind was filling the sails. Mikasa made her way up the steep stairs to reach the flying deck. Petra stood at the wheel, examining a compass set in a post close to her to direct the ship. She looked up and smiled.

“Good afternoon, your excellency,” she said. “Everything seems to be fitting you well.”

“Your ship and your crew have my eternal gratitude, Miss Ral,” she said, inclining her head. “You especially for hauling me out of the sea. Rest assured, I will do all that I can to repay you.”

“I was glad to help.”

She smiled in turn. “I hate to bother you for this, but do you have a map that I could look at? That kind of information was taken from me.”

“Oh! Certainly, your excellency, here.” She opened a slot in the compass’s post, taking out a rolled up map. Mikasa took it and examined it closely. A glance at the compass helped to orient her to their destination, the port city of Trost. It was on a point on curve at the northeast of the continent of Sina. The map was such that she could see the island of Utgard to the north and a fraction of the next continent to the east, labeled minutely as the land of Liūtas.

“What’s the situation in Liūtas that you’re smuggling weapons through its borders?”

Petra blushed. “Oh, no, we don’t—”

“Eren and Armin told me. If I was offended, I wouldn’t have offered to be your patron.”

“Oh. W-well, it’s trying to destroy the military foothold Sina has in the east. We’re supplying Commander Erwin with whatever we can to help him remove the nobles appointed by King Raugraves.”

“I see. What’s happened in the east?”

“House Raugraves wanted to expand its rule. At first they tried to be peaceful about it, but when Kaiser Leonhardt made it clear that he would not marry his daughter away for any reason, the Sina army moved in. Commander Erwin was the only officer from the kaiser’s army that escaped with his life, and the kaiser’s daughter was never found. It’s been twelve years since then.”

“I assume this is the accurate information your commander has given you. How is it spun in Sina?”

“That the downfall of the Leonhardt empire was caused by barbaric in-fighting and the Sina army heroically quelled a civil war before it destroyed the whole of Liūtas’ people.”

“And what role,” Mikasa said quietly, “did the Reiss household play in this heated drama?”

Petra looked at her blankly. “Well…maybe to advise King Raugraves of the best way to tell the Sina commoners about the debacle. I don’t really know.”

She said nothing, taking another moment to roll the map up. As she handed it back, however, she asked, “What was the princess’s name?”

“Annie.”

“I see. I’ll pray that she was delivered from her struggles with as much fortune as I have been.” She turned to look forward, squinting in the wind. Before long, a port came into view, and Petra shouted for all hands on deck. Mikasa watched with interest as the crew made the ship ready. Levi and Hanji barked orders to let Petra focus on steering, and Mikasa moved to a railing to take in the sight and the rising sound of Trost.

The sheer volume of human voices was startling at first. Men bellowed on the docks to communicate, and the shouts and shrieks of children beyond the docks was followed quickly by parents chastising them just as loudly. Levi went on ahead in a rowboat with Hanji and two men to row, but they pulled into port under Petra’s guidance. Mikasa wondered why her legs were so suddenly frozen to the deck, seeing a world larger than one hundred square feet. She inhaled slowly and carefully worked her feet free to follow Petra down to the main deck.

“If you’d call for Armin and Eren, we’ll be on our way shortly,” Mikasa said.

“But Captain Levi should be back fairly soon.”

She smiled slightly. “You know as well as I do that he would have no kind parting words. We’ll get off his ship, and he can send his envoy to pick up his first payment one month from today.”

Petra hesitated, looking toward the buildings clustered at the end of the docks. She thought, sighed, and nodded. In the end, she was the one who saw them off, giving Eren and Armin hugs as they stood on the dock. Much more hesitantly, she offered Mikasa her hand to shake.

Smiling much more warmly, Mikasa took Petra’s hand. She put her other arm behind her back, bowed at the waist, and kissed the back of her hand gently. When she straightened up and released her hand, she said, “If you ever need help, Miss Ral, you have my unwavering promise of aid. May your ship always see fair winds.”

“Th-thank you, your excellency,” Petra said, blushing. “I’ll pray you return home safely.”

“Thank you,” Mikasa said. She turned, lifting a hand. “Until we meet again—wait, and hope for all good things.” She followed Armin and Eren once they had waved to Petra, and they started off. Armin moved to her side to keep a careful eye on her stride, and he took the opportunity of coming near a shop to make them all slow down.

“I’ve budgeted out a silver coin for a few things for you, starting with a ribbon for your hair,” he said. “Come on.” He led her into the shop, full of fabrics, threads, and ribbons. Eren dropped back to look at a bolt of green fabric with a believable level of interest.

“If we put any more crimson on me, it’ll look garish,” Mikasa remarked.

“Maybe a dark gray?”

“Perhaps.” She lowered her voice to say, “Thank you. It’s strange walking on land in shoes.”

“I saw your heels drag a little, milady.” He picked a spool of satin ribbon, wide but simple in its stitching and as gray as her eyes. “Is this all right?”

She looked at it closely, finding she liked its color. “That’ll be fine. I’ll be outside with Eren.” She strode out of the shop, going slowly enough that Eren did not have to jump to follow. They stopped near a bookstore, and Mikasa struggled to not go inside. The temptation to steal a book plagued her.

Armin came to them shortly, the ribbon folded and showing in his jacket pocket. He asked, “Would you like to stop at the inn and set out tomorrow refreshed?”

She thought on it, but did not know how to answer.

Eren leaned slightly closer to whisper, “No one is talking about an escape from Utgard. We could stay one night.”

“All right,” she murmured. “Lead the way.”

Armin nodded and took his place at her side, Eren going first. He asked for only one night in a room with two beds at the inn, but the innkeeper’s daughter hesitated at the sight of them. Mikasa smiled at her with all the pleasantness and warmth in her, and the woman smiled brightly back.

“Up one floor and fourth on the right,” she said, handing Eren a key. “I’ll be making dinner in a few hours.”

“Thanks kindly,” Eren said, and he led the way once more. When he opened the door and stepped into their room, he grinned. “We got a room with a bunk-bed!”

Mikasa stared. “With what?” She went inside when he gestured, brows rising at the sight of a bunk-bed, its sheets and blankets clean and looking marvelously comfortable. She went to the lower bed, pressing on it cautiously. Her fingers sank into the blanket and the mattress, and she did the same when she sat down. For a few moments, she could barely think because she finally did not ache so terribly.

Armin chuckled. “I think you’re going to fall asleep the second you sit in a nice chair at the estate.”

“I believe you’d be right,” Mikasa said. “My God, this is the kind of bed an inn has?”

“This is a nice inn,” Eren said. “I wouldn’t count on the beds being this nice all the way home.”

“My frame of reference is always going to be skewed.” She exhaled heavily, drumming her fingers on the bed. Her back was curling forward, and her eyes were closing. Armin and Eren glanced at each other before Armin knelt down beside Mikasa.

“Milady, feel free to rest until we have to leave,” he said. “You’re still not fully recovered from everything.”

“What will you two be doing?” she asked.

“We’ll go out one at a time to get supplies for us,” he said. “So we won’t leave you alone.”

She did not reply immediately. When she did, it was by doffing her coat and offering it to Armin. She untied her boots, looking up through her hair to watch them. Eren pressed a kiss to Armin’s head before leaving the room, and Armin locked the door before hanging her coat on the back of one of the chairs in the room. Still, she did not settle right away.

Armin cracked open the window to let in a breeze. It was warmer than on the sea, and not tinged with the sharp scent of salt. She sat there, feeling the breeze on her face.

“Armin,” she said quietly.

“Yes?”

“At least one of you will be here when I wake up, won’t you?”

“I promise. And you’ll still know us.”

She said nothing, but she moved to pull the blanket back and slip beneath it. She kept her back to the wall, eyes moving between the door, the window, and Armin as she put her head on the pillow. This proved to be a sedative, sending her to sleep in seconds. Again, she did not dream. Hers was a heavy slumber, aided by the warmth and the quiet. Waking came from her fingertips being squeezed and Eren saying her name. She blinked, not curling her fingers away from his. As she sat up slowly, her eyes spotted three thick books on the small writing table. Her heart jumped; she smiled without thinking.

“I told Armin you were looking at the books like you wanted to eat them,” Eren said, “so his errand was getting you as many books as he could for the rest of that silver coin.” He picked the books up and brought them to her.

She took them eagerly, examining each. One book was a novel from the west, its cover scuffed from years of reading. Another was a history of Sina, well kept and fairly new. The last was a history of Liūtas and the Leonhardt empire, and its final chapter was titled, “The Lost Fürstin.”

“You brilliant gentlemen,” Mikasa said. “I’ll do my best to at least look through them before we reach the estate.”

“Um, Mikasa?” Eren asked. “What…what d’we do if someone’s living there? Like—say your parents are alive.”

She went still. “I’d prefer not to kill anyone, but that would be the final option if I can’t get into their good graces. Technically, though, I don’t need the estate so much as the treasure hidden there.”

“And you’re sure that no one else has found it and taken it?”

“Quite sure. The count who collected all this wealth never told his wife or his son where he hid it. The only people who knew were the count himself and a military commander named Dot Pyxis.”

Eren’s eyes grew panicked. “But what if that Pyxis guy is after it?”

“He’s not. He told me about it in Utgard shortly before he died, and I used his death shroud to escape.”

“Oh,” Eren said faintly. “Well…thank God for him.”

“We’ll toast him when we get home.” She looked around. “Did Armin have another errand to run?”

“He’s getting dinner for us. We thought you might not want to be around a lot of people yet. That and you can read while we eat and we won’t get offended.”

She chuckled. “Thank you. I’m glad you twisted my arm to let you come along.”

He grinned. “Us too.” He turned aside, holding out one arm as though holding a rapier and starting to play at a duel. “This is a much better adventure than smuggling already.”

Mikasa watched him, her smile slowly fading. She raised a brow and said, “Your form is atrocious. Did no one teach you?”

“Uh,” he said, “I dueled with some of the crew every so often.”

“Good lord,” she sighed. “I suppose we don’t have enough to spare to get either of us a sword.”

“No, but what do you know about sword fighting?”

She frowned. “More than you, I’d say. Or would you like me to put you on the floor like I did on the ship?”

He winced. “No, I’m good.” He jumped when the door was kicked three times, hurrying to let Armin inside. He took the tray Armin carried and put it on the writing table, letting Armin close and lock the door. Armin picked up the largest of the three covered ceramic bowls and a spoon, carrying them to Mikasa.

“Here we are,” he said as she took the bowl and spoon. “The innkeeper’s daughter put extra in yours. It’s shepherd’s pie.”

She looked at him curiously. “Did you pay her to do that?”

“No,” Armin said easily, “you charmed her with your smile.”

“I did?”

Eren paused in shoveling food into his mouth and swallowed. “I told you that you really look like a countess when you smile. It’s no surprise that she has a little crush on you.”

“All right, but you also told me that there’s some absurd religious law against lovers of the same gender.”

Armin hid a laugh in his hand as he sat on a chair. “It doesn’t stop people from being the way they are. I would take it as a compliment.”

She said nothing because nothing came to her, and so picked up the book on Liūtas to read as she ate. The shepherd’s pie was unlike anything she had attempted to think of, so savory and delicious that she finished long after Armin and Eren. The sun had set by then, Eren fumbling for the lantern hanging by the door and lighting it. Armin took a folded map from an inner pocket on his jacket, looking at the space next to Mikasa. She nodded and let him sit beside her to review the map with him, setting the book aside.

“Here’s where we are in Trost,” he said, tapping a point marked in red on the map. Running it along a thickly lined road, he said, “This road is mainly for lines of commerce—wagons and merchant caravans make most of the traffic. Travelers are allowed and they aren’t required to pay any transport tolls or taxes, so we’ll be fine. There’s one hundred and forty-five miles between Trost and Stohess, which is the principality controlled by the Ackerman house. It should be another forty miles to the estate from the Stohess border.”

“So slightly more than thirteen miles a day to get there in two weeks,” Mikasa said.

“Or nine miles a day for three weeks if we go slower or stay at inns for longer,” Armin said.

“Why bother with inns that often?” Mikasa asked. “A steadfast heart takes pleasure from having grass for their pillow during a journey.”

The both of them stared at her. After a moment, Eren said, “What did you say?”

She faltered, putting a hand on her head. “Was that a quote of something? How did I know it?”

“That was a line from ‘The Sword of the Moon!’” Armin whispered eagerly. “It was a famous western novel from thirty years ago! If you can remember something like that—something that’s not just how to function—maybe it could mean that whatever you were given to erase your memories wasn’t perfect!”

“Hanji said there’s no reversing it,” Mikasa said.

“Maybe not with another drink or instantly, but if it was completely irreversible, why would they force you to drink it over and over like you told us they did?” He gripped her hand tightly. “There could be a chance that you could recover at least some of what happened to you! That you could remember why you hate the Reiss house! You could take that and destroy their house _completely_ instead of going at them blindly!”

She sat very still and very quiet. She looked at him. “I…you think I could recover those memories?”

“Maybe,” he said. “And maybe others. It might not be perfect, and maybe it won’t work like I’m thinking. But it’s like you told Petra. Wait, and hope for all good things. Right?”

“Yes,” she said. “Wait and hope. All human wisdom is contained in those words.”

“And while the mind sometimes forgets, the soul remembers forever,” Armin said.

She blinked. “Have we been quoting that same book?”

He smiled and nodded. “I’ll find a copy when we get home.”

Eren grinned and ruffled Armin’s hair. “Better find one for me, too. It sounds good. But we should get to sleep if we want to get moving early. We’ll have a lot of daylight tomorrow.”

“Right,” Armin said. He gave Mikasa’s hand one more squeeze before putting the map and his jacket onto the table. He climbed into the top bunk, and Eren went to join him after blowing out the lantern and putting it on the table. Before he started to climb up, he touched Mikasa’s shoulder.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night to you both,” she replied, and she settled as he climbed up to Armin. She pulled her scarf over her nose and mouth to help herself calm down enough to sleep. Again, she had no dreams, no images of her own or of what she had seen so far. The next morning, she was not woken by Eren or Armin. It was a sharp, bright sound beyond their closed window, and it rang out again and again. She did not recognize it, and so she got out of bed to open the window.

The sky was pale, pale blue. The sun was brilliant, banishing the traces of fog from the sea. She heard the sound again, turning to look at a nearby tree. Birds were flapping around the branches, swooping and playing with each other, and she realized that she had been woken by their loud chirping. It was enough to make her smile, make her take the history of Liūtas and sit on the window sill. Mikasa read to pass the time, enjoying the faint breeze on her skin.

To her surprise, Eren woke soon after her, sitting upright and instantly conscious. He jostled Armin gently until he jerked awake.

“Sorry,” Armin mumbled. “We can get moving soon.” Once he had climbed down, he found the gray ribbon on the table and offered it to her. She took it, tying her hair back with a knot that would not permanently deform the ribbon. This took the longest of their preparations, but they were fully packed and dressed inside of five minutes.

Room key in her hand and rucksack on her back, Mikasa led the way down stairs. She was surprised once more by the sight of the innkeeper’s daughter there at the front counter to accept the key’s return. She looked up at Mikasa rather shyly before lifting a small tray from behind the counter. On it were three pastries, freshly made and smelling delicious.

“I thought you three might leave right away,” she said. “Please, take them. It won’t cost you anything.”

Mikasa smiled and reached out to take one of her hands. “My dear, your gracious hospitality is all I would have needed to start this journey well.” She bowed slightly and kissed the woman’s hand. “But we will take them to carry your sweetness with us.”

The woman blushed bright red and smiled, and neither of these faltered when they took the pastries and departed. Heading out on the road was a silent matter, done in part by their eating. However, even when they were finished they did not speak for a long while. It took an hour for Eren to work up the courage to cough awkwardly.

“Yes?” Mikasa said.

“Um, well,” Eren said, “did you—do that on purpose this time?”

She looked at him blankly. “Do what?”

He stared back. “You were _flirting_ with her. Armin, wasn’t she?”

“It seemed that way,” Armin replied.

Her brows rose. “I was?”

“Didn’t you mean to?” Armin asked. “You were the same way with Petra.” He thought again. “Well, you were more blatant at the inn with that bit about carrying her sweetness with us.”

“But she _was_ extremely sweet,” Mikasa said. “Was it inappropriate to tell her that?”

“It’s cruel if you’re just doing it to manipulate people,” Eren said.

“I have different ways of manipulating people,” Mikasa said. “I enjoy seeing women smile and blush like that, and I enjoy being the one making them smile.”

“Enjoy it enough to want to kiss them?” Eren asked casually.

“Of course. I would’ve liked to see if her mouth was as sweet as her pastries.” She stopped walking entirely, eyes widening. “Oh.”

Armin smiled knowingly. “Did you just realize that you love women? It certainly sounds like it.”

Mikasa laughed a moment. “I believe I did. What a _lovely_ realization on a beautiful morning.” She started to walk again, and they remained in high spirits throughout the day.

————

There was a reason beyond her comfort that Armin kept suggesting that they stop at inns. She saw the way he glanced twice at everyone who passed them wearing weapons in plain view. She did the same and saw no reason to fear them. On their fourth night, arriving at last to a town with an open room at its inn, she spoke to him.

“Most of the people we’re passing are carrying their weapons openly to drive _off_ bandits,” she said. “No bandit would be that brazen, given the military patrols we’ve seen. The people on a busy road in broad daylight aren’t going to put us in danger. We’ve more to fear in towns and on smaller roads.”

He smiled weakly, not comforted even when Eren put an arm around his shoulders.

The anxiety in his body made Mikasa twitch. She leaned forward in her chair to grasp his hand. “While the two of you are technically my servants, I will not let either of you come to harm. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Armin said. He laughed just as weakly as his smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not that used to being on an adventure with so few people.”

“We’ll be fine,” she replied. After thinking, she said, “Give me your knife.”

Armin went pale. “But—”

“At least until we find another weapon for me to use. I swear you’ll be safe.”

He hesitated, but nodded and untied the knife hanging on his belt. As she added it to her belt on her other hip, he said, “I’m sorry we didn’t have enough saved for that.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said in turn. “My arrival couldn’t have been planned for. We’re doing all right.” When they turned in for the night, though, she knew Armin remained awake for a long while. She slept, and she let Armin stick closer to her over the next three days.

His anxiety was not helped on that third day when they met no soldiers on patrol and only glimpsed merchant wagons before they sped away. He moved even closer to her; she could nearly smell his cold sweat. When the sun went down and they stepped off the road to make camp, his hands were shaking.

“M-maybe we should keep going,” he said.

“Your eyes aren’t as good as mine are in the dark,” Mikasa said.

“I know, but we never saw a patrol today! What if there’re bandits on this stretch of the road?”

“Armin, it’s okay,” Eren said, taking his shoulder. “We won’t light a fire tonight.”

His breath hitched from fear.

“You will be safe,” Mikasa said firmly. “I have already sworn it to you. Don’t worry.”

It took Armin all through Mikasa unpacking their bedrolls in the dark to calm down in the slightest. Even then, Eren had to kiss his palm to give him courage enough to lie down on his bedroll. The night did not start out cold; the heat of the sun clung to the grass beneath them. A slow, steady breeze began to blow in from the coast, and bit by bit the warmth was swept away. Mikasa, entirely awake with her eyes closed, listened to both Eren and Armin shiver.

The sounds of their coldness were not enough to hide what she listened for. She counted four sets of footsteps, too soft to wake anyone. There was metal clicking; blades in sheaths. A great urge to smile came to her when three knives were drawn, but the fourth drawn blade turned out to be a full sword.

“Get the brats tied up to scare her,” hissed a voice near her. “Gag ‘em first.”

She heard cloth rustling, and then skin against skin as hands were clamped down over mouths. Eren was fighting instantly, but he gagged suddenly when something heavy hit flesh covered in cloth and his struggle weakened. Armin let out a panicked scream that was almost completely muffled.

“I suggest letting them go immediately,” Mikasa said, sharp and clear, “and leaving your weapons and money here before running for your lives.”

They laughed at her. She smiled and opened her eyes. The point of a sword was near her face, but not nearly close enough to be a threat. She twisted, moving low under the blade and drawing a knife as she did. The slash she aimed at the man’s forearm was a calculated distraction. Her blade skipped along a metal vambrace, and she shot to her feet when he jumped with shock.

She plunged the knife into the man’s armpit while his arm was still raised. He choked, releasing the sword. She caught it with her free hand as it fell, taking the knife and moving back to slash through the man’s throat. In the moments that the three other bandits froze, she pitched both of her knives, one after the other, into the foreheads of the two men holding a semi-conscious Eren. They dropped down dead, and the last man dropped Armin to hold up his hands in surrender.

Once Armin had squirmed far enough away, Mikasa lunged forward and thrust the sword cleanly through the man’s heart. She pushed him off the blade using her foot in his stomach, angling the sword away from herself and Armin to avoid bloodstains. When she was certain all the bandits were dead, she went to check Eren. Eyes closed, he breathed steadily and flinched when she pinched hard on the base of his thumbnail.

“Armin, rouse him,” she said. “I’ll handle the rest.”

“B-but—”

“We have little time to run before their compatriots come,” she said, pawing through coin purses and weapon belts. Taking only her own knives and the sword, she cleaned all the blades on the bandits’ clothes and checked the sword’s hilt. It was plain, the pommel without mark, and common enough in craft that she did not fear it being recognized. She sheathed it and tied it to her belt quickly to get to the leader’s vambraces.

Armin was struggling to wake Eren at all, and so she hastily repacked their bedrolls and stuffed the vambraces into her pack. She pushed all the packs into Armin’s arms before pulling Eren onto her back.

“Quickly,” she hissed to Armin. He nodded, pulling on the packs and following her as she hurried back onto the road. They ran through the night at her direction, her eyes able to find paths that were covered in stone and would not betray their steps. She made them veer off the road to the other side as the sky lightened, slipping into a small wooded glade. She put Eren down as Armin caught up, wheezing.

Eren sat up slowly, eyes unfocused. “Wha—what’s goin’ on? Why’d I wake up on your back?”

“Bandits,” Mikasa said, only slightly out of breath. “We should be all right now.” She offered Armin his knife back. “Now that we have another weapon for me.”

He stared at her, tears in his eyes as the sun crested over the horizon. He reached out, but neither took the knife nor touched her. “Y-you killed four men in less than a minute. You didn’t even get any blood on you.”

She raised a brow. “What good is it if I let their blood get on me? We needed to escape without a trace.”

“Wait, what?” Eren said. “What’s—where’d that sword come from?”

“Bandits,” Mikasa repeated. She put her fingers over Armin’s mouth when he opened it massively. “Don’t scream at this hour unless you want to expose us.”

“Who the hell _were_ you?” he demanded in a hiss. “Even if you really were from the Ackerman house, how could you do that so easily when you’ve been imprisoned for who knows how long?”

It was a fair question, but she had no answer. She went quiet and pulled her hand away. After a time, she said, “I don’t know, and I wish I did.”

Armin stared a few seconds more before closing his eyes tightly, pressing his hands down upon them, and gripping his hair. He rocked back and forth, whispering, “ _Think_ ,” over and over. Eren held a finger to his own lips when Mikasa looked at him for an explanation. They waited for him, both jumping when he snarled a curse.

“Who were you fighting other than Reiss?” he asked the air. “Were you sent to fight him? Or kill him? But _why_? What would anyone want from you that they’d keep you _alive_ in Utgard with your mind destroyed?”

“Punishment,” Mikasa said quietly. “Striking me with divine wrath to try and break me. Doesn’t that seem logical?”

He scoffed, but said, “I know it is. It’s just evil.”

“We’ll probably see more of it before too long,” Eren said. He looked at them and then at the road. “I think I see a town up ahead. Let’s get a room and rest today. You look way too exhausted to walk much more.”

She thought about arguing. The pallor of Armin’s face stopped her, and she took the lead once they were in the town. She got them a room and managed to receive a bottle of good wine for a few silver pieces and her best smile for the woman who gave them a key. She returned to their room with the bottle and three empty glasses, knocking gently.

Eren let her inside, as Armin was sitting, sullen and silent, on the top bunk of their bed. Mikasa sighed and climbed up to sit with him. She offered an empty glass, but he did not take it.

“Armin,” she murmured. “Please believe me—I know precious little more than you do when it comes to my past. I did not do that to frighten you or Eren. I couldn’t let either of you get hurt.”

He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. He took the glass and toyed with it. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to have strength and speed like that. And I’m not used to having this much trouble figuring out a problem.”

She uncorked the bottle and held it up. He held out his glass, and as she poured out a drink, she said, “Welcome to my life.” When Eren stood up on the lower bunk, she gave him a glass as well and filled it. After filling her own glass, she held it out for them to tap their glasses against.

“To uncovering the truth,” she murmured. “That I will be able to lay all your fears to rest.”

“And so we can figure out who to get back at,” Eren said.

Armin nodded, brows low, and they drank the wine with all its heavy sweetness.

————

A faster pace brought them beyond the borders of Stohess a day early. Armin directed them with the map, turning them down a smaller road that was much more well maintained than the commerce road. It headed east-southeast, heading through fields full of ripe fruits and crops, and orchards being worked. They only took a few apples here and there, and no more than a handful each of the fruits every other day.

On the sixth day on this road, Mikasa was in the middle of tightening the ties of the vambraces on her arms when they passed a sign. She paused to read it, but did not keep walking.

“Xenten?” she said. “What city is this?”

“This is the capitol of Stohess, where the Ackerman estate is,” Armin said. “This road leads to the estate directly.”

Eren glanced about as they walked, beginning to frown. “I don’t like this. It’s too quiet for a Sunday. And everything is clean and neat—someone is in power here.”

“Even so, we’re not turning back now,” Mikasa said. She finished adjusting the vambraces and pushed her coat sleeves back down to hide them. As they walked into the heart of the city, she wished she hadn’t. A distraction would have been welcome. The streets, the houses, the shops—everything unnerved her for a reason she could not name.

“There, just ahead,” Armin said. “The Ackerman estate.”

She looked up and nearly stopped again at the sight of the grand manor. Something clawed at the inside of her skull. Without knowing why, she asked, “What day is it? The date?”

“May twenty-second,” Armin replied. “Is that date important?”

“I don’t,” she whispered, “I don’t know.” She swallowed hard and pressed forward with Armin and Eren hurrying to follow. They made their way to the entrance gate. A man stood on duty there, clothed in black trousers and a dark green shirt. He was exceptionally tall, his skin, eyes, and hair dark.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“I request an audience with the master of this house,” Mikasa said.

The man looked at her curiously. “Do you mean the mistresses? There is no master here.”

“My apologies,” she said. “I’ve been traveling for a long while and I’ve not had a chance to keep track. But please, I have to speak to them.”

He thought a moment, glanced at the manor, and then opened the gate. “Come in. I’ll take you to the eldest Lady Renz and have her sister summoned.”

He led them inside, their footfalls on the tile flooring loud in the silence. This led another man, heavily muscled, tall, and blond, to meet them. He looked at them with a frown strong enough that Eren and Armin faltered. Mikasa only raised a brow.

“Please bring Lady Renz’s sister,” the darker man said. “We have guests. Is Lady Renz still practicing on the veranda?”

“She is.” He continued to frown, but turned and said, “I’ll bring her sister to you outside.”

“Thank you.” When the other man had gone, he bowed to them. “Please, this way.”

They followed him onward through the manor. While Eren and Armin gawked at the opulence of the wood walls and moulding and the luster of every stone tile and piece of art on the walls, Mikasa kept her eyes on the man’s back. Looking around made sweat rise along her spine, and she could not allow it then and there. As they came to double doors inlaid with gold filigree and frosted glass, she heard thuds that were not quite rhythmic, but she could not parse their source.

The man opened the doors, revealing a grand veranda overlooking the sea. At the left side was an enormous archery target, its bullseye hit twice and four other arrows clustered close by. At the right side was a young woman, a bow in her left hand and a standing quiver at her right side. She was short, dressed in black trousers and a short-sleeved red shirt. Her feet were bare, her brilliantly blonde hair tied up in a loose bun. Her visible eye was as blue as the sky beyond her, and her nose was on the large side.

Mikasa nearly fell to one knee at the sight of her. She knew her eyes went wide, felt her face flush, but her heart jumped in her chest too fiercely for her to care. Even if she had any memories to rely on, she still would have felt comfortable saying she’d never seen anyone as lovely and elegantly poised as the woman before her. She watched, entranced, as the woman fired an arrow, struck a third bullseye, and took another arrow from the quiver.

“What do you want, Bertholdt?” she asked.

“Milady, there are guests here to see you and your sister,” he said.

“If I didn’t make myself obscenely clear on Friday,” the woman said snidely, “let me try again. I will see _no one_ on business today. Get rid of them _now_.”

He winced, but nodded and said, “At once, milady.” He turned with his arms spread to guide them away. Mikasa slipped past him with no effort, desperate to hear the woman speak again.

“Milady,” she said quickly. “Please, excuse my impertinence. Rest assured, I am not here on mere business, I—”

The woman turned. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted.

Mikasa stared, heart in her throat. Something about the woman’s eyes was familiar, and she could not believe the notion of familiarity had come to her. She took another step closer. “I—milady, I…have…have we met somewhere before?”

The bow and arrow slipped from her hands. A small, choked sound left her. She swallowed and whispered, “What is your name?”

She softly said, “My name is Mikasa Ackerman, milady.”

The woman inhaled sharply and took a step back.

Mikasa took a step forward to match her, stretching out a hand. “Milady, are you all right? Please, I did not mean to startle you.”

The woman remained silent, eyes even wider. She did not react to another door to the veranda being thrown open and running footsteps drawing near. She did not react to the arrival of an even shorter blonde woman, who caught her arm and tugged gently.

“Annie!” the new woman said, smiling and eager. “Reiner said we have guests! You haven’t sent them away yet, have you? Can I meet them?” Her smile dropped at the sight of Annie’s wide eyes and shock. “Annie? What’s wrong? What’re you looking—” She turned, saw Mikasa, and went bone pale. “Oh my God.” She inhaled shakily and again whispered, “Oh my God.”

Mikasa stared at both of them, a strange panic rising within her. “Miladies, please, I did not mean to cause you distress. I—I’m sorry, but…have we met somewhere before?”

The shorter woman’s eyes filled with tears, and she rushed forward to throw her arms around Mikasa. She wept against Mikasa’s chest, but Mikasa felt no need to push her away. Instead, she wanted to comfort the woman, and it made the panic in her rise further. She looked at Annie.

Desperately, she asked, “Milady, please, I don’t understand what’s going on. Do you know me?”

“Twelve years!” the shorter woman sobbed. “Twelve years to the _day_! We did just as you told us for all this time!”

“What—what I told you?”

“Wait,” said Annie, “and hope for all good things.”

A chill ran down her neck, the panic stalling before starting to creep back down. “We _have_ met.”

Annie moved closer and put a tentative hand on Mikasa’s arm. “Don’t you remember?”

She shook her head. “I was in Utgard. My…my memories are gone.”

The shorter woman held her tighter and said, “I’m _sorry_! Oh, God, please forgive us!”

Mikasa put her hands on the woman’s shoulders and pushed gently to make her look up. “What are you talking about? How do you two know me?”

Annie gripped her arm tightly. “My name isn’t Annie Renz. I am Annie Leonhardt.”

Her eyes widened. “The fürstin of the Leonhardt empire?”

She nodded. “And the woman holding you isn’t Christa Renz. She’s Historia Reiss, my half-sister.”

She expected fury to rise within her, but she could not summon it when looking at Historia. “Reiss? You’re of the Reiss household?”

“I’m sorry!” Historia said again. “It’s our fault, I know! You saved us both instead of killing us and—and—God, _I’m sorry_!”

Her legs weakened as the panic left her entirely. “I did what? I—” Her knees buckled, but Annie and Historia kept her from falling too hard. She stared. “You—you _did_ know me? What was my name?”

Annie hesitated. “You didn’t have one when we met. But Historia was scared about not having something to call you, so you told us to call you by a name you picked for yourself. You told us to call you ‘Mikasa.’”

It felt like she had been stabbed in the spine. She was grateful to be sitting down. Words failed her, and again when Annie and Historia knelt down to hold her tightly. She did not realize she was crying until Annie gently wiped her tears away.

“Welcome home,” Annie whispered. She let Mikasa put her head on her shoulder and cry upon it, holding her close.

Historia recovered first, sniffing and drying her face. She took one of Mikasa’s hands and squeezed, saying, “Please, come inside. You and your friends—we’ll discuss everything out of earshot.” To Reiner and Bertholdt, she said, “Can you get Mina and Marco to prepare lunch early? Bring it and some wine to the parlor.” Before they left, she added, “And bring Ymir as well, please.”

Eren hurried over to help Mikasa up, but Annie and Historia beat him to it. He still caught her sleeve and asked, “You all right?”

“I am,” she said. “Thank you.” She beckoned Armin over, drying her face with her free hand. “Miladies, allow me to introduce Eren Jaeger and Armin Arlert. They have agreed to serve me, though in all honesty I owe them and their ship’s crew my life.”

“Tell us inside,” Annie said, and she took Mikasa’s hand to lead her along. The urge to speak left Mikasa instantly as she felt the warmth of Annie’s skin. She followed her all the way to a large parlor room filled with soft armchairs and chaise lounges.

“You won’t be dealing with enemies here,” Annie said. “You can take off your weapons and armor.”

She raised a brow. “You noticed the vambraces?”

“When I caught your arm as you fell.” She squeezed Mikasa’s hand, voice growing softer. “Please, I want you to be comfortable here.”

Mikasa nodded after a moment, and Armin and Eren stepped in to take her sword, knife, coat, and the vambraces. She noticed Historia staring at the old scars on her bare forearms and started to roll her shirt sleeves back down.

“Oh!” Historia said, blushing. “No, I’m not offended! I was just surprised by how they look now.”

Mikasa hesitated. “How did they look before?”

“Well, they were—” But she shook her head and tugged on Mikasa’s hand. “Please sit down first.” She brought her to the most comfortable armchair and made her sit. Very quickly, she fetched an ottoman for herself and sat down on Mikasa’s left side at her knee.

“When we first met, you wouldn’t show us your arms at all,” Historia said. She gently took Mikasa’s wrist, lifting her arm. She touched a long, pale line that had almost faded entirely, her fingers shaking. “You said it was unseemly to expose the fürstin to scars gained in your line of work.”

Mikasa watched her hand for a moment before looking at Annie. “What work would have brought me to Liūtas?”

“An assassination,” Annie replied.

She did not flinch at this as Eren and Armin did. It was not an accusation bitterly made, but information stated. She looked at her other arm, examining the muscles there. Lifting her eyes to Historia, she quietly asked, “I was going to assassinate you two? But why?”

“You said you didn’t know,” Annie said. She moved closer and touched Mikasa’s right hand hesitantly, as though she was unsure she was real. The faintest shiver went through her, invisible to all but Mikasa. She swallowed and continued, “You said you didn’t know why you were sent to kill us, but you brought us here to be safe, and before you left you promised you’d find out the truth and come back to tell us.” She smiled anxiously and set her hand fully on Mikasa’s.

“I guess that’s why you were in Utgard,” she said quietly. “And they probably took that information from you. But…that’s fine.”

The sadness in her voice made Mikasa’s chest tighten. She turned her hand over to hold Annie’s. “No, it’s not. Regardless of good intentions, I took you from your home and from your birthright, and I did the same to Historia. I was only in Liūtas to _kill_ you. You cannot tell me that living in hiding is acceptable.”

“It’s not, but we don’t blame you,” Annie shot back. “In any case, we don’t have the resources to strike back at the military in my empire. All we have are the taxes owed to the Ackerman house and control of the bandit network in Stohess.”

Her eyes widened. She rose to her feet, beginning to smile. “Miladies, allow me to speak with you in private. Eren, Armin, stay here and tell their servants we’ll be back shortly.” She touched Annie and Historia on the shoulder before striding off. They followed, only able to stammer questions as Mikasa found landmarks she had memorized weeks ago and set off with a quick stride.

The landmarks, marks on stone floors and wood walls, led her straight into a large armory room. It was well organized and cleaned, filled with all manner of blades, staves, spears, and firearms. She counted the cases of heavy swords on the left wall, reaching seven when the wall turned a sharp corner and became open space for bows hung there on pegs.

“Here we are,” she said. She took the two bows hanging on their grips nearest the corner off of their pegs and set them aside.

Annie stepped closer. “What’re you doing?”

Mikasa smiled. She took two of the four pegs in hand, top left and bottom right, and pulled them in toward each other. A faint click told her she was correct, and she took the two other pegs and pushed them out and away from each other. A louder click and a low grinding of stone made Annie and Historia jump.

“You were never told of this, then?” Mikasa asked as the wall began to swing inward. It was dark beyond the entryway, but their silence kept her from heading down the stairs she could see in the shadows. She stepped into the dark to retrieve the lantern only she could see, and lit it with a match from a box pinned to the wall.

“My ladies,” she said gently, holding out her free hand. “I wish to make you an offer. Will you follow me further?”

They hesitated only long enough to breathe in and nod. Historia took her hand as Annie went to her other side, and she led them down the smooth stairs.

“What is this place?” Historia asked. “Are we going into one of the caves on the coast?”

“No, not quite,” Mikasa said. “While there are pools of water down here, it’s far from any waves. No risk of erosion for a very long time.”

“What’s down here?” Annie asked.

“If what I know is true,” Mikasa said, “the greatest key we could ask for in life. And if you were unaware of it, it may very well be—” She made them stop on instinct, seeing a bright gleam ahead. Her eyes widened, and she went down another step, lifting the lantern high. Annie and Historia gasped.

“Is,” Historia whispered, “is all of that _gold_?”

“And every other precious metal and gem that there is in the world,” Mikasa said. “ _Perfect_.”

“Oh my God,” Annie said, hurrying down the last steps and past scattered riches. She opened chest after chest hidden in holes and crevasses, finding gold and silver ingots, jewelry with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, coins from all over the world, and more wealth than she could even comprehend. Pools of water were all around the massive cavern, and yet more chests were sunken within them.

“Are _all_ of these full of treasure?” she asked, turning to Mikasa.

“By all accounts, they should be,” she replied. “I doubt you or the last head of the Ackerman house ever touched this.”

“But why _didn’t_ you tell Johan when you brought us here?” Historia asked. “You knew each other—why wouldn’t you say anything about something hidden in his own house?”

“I only learned of this treasure while I was imprisoned in Utgard. If I had known, I would’ve let him know for your sakes.” She found a jutting stone to hang the lantern on.

“My ladies,” she said. “Could you come here for a moment?” They came to her outstretched hands, and she slowly knelt down on one knee before them. She smiled with a tenderness she did not know she possessed. “Would you like to hear my plan?”

“We’re listening,” Annie said, holding her hand.

“Thank you, your highness.” She looked at them evenly, still smiling. “I have very few memories of my past, and what little I have is not clear right now. But I see I have done something in our pasts to take you from your homes. What I have kept in my heart through my imprisonment is that I must destroy the Reiss household. However, I do not and cannot extend this hatred to you, Historia. And if you wish it…I will put that vengeance aside as atonement to you.”

Historia stared at her, mouth falling open. She took Mikasa’s other hand with both of hers, squeezing tight as she shook her head. “Don’t you _dare_! The last thing you told us before you left was that your order came on paper with the Reiss seal! You _have_ to destroy the Reiss house!”

Mikasa stared back. “The Reiss house tried to kill one of their own? But why?” She looked down. “No, _wait_. Your highness, you called Historia your half-sister. Half by who, your father or your mother?”

“My mother,” said Annie. “We don’t know who her father is, or even why my mother had an affair. She’s just always been with me, ever since I was six, and her name was always Historia Reiss.”

“Then your father is one of the Reiss family,” Mikasa said. “And he sent me to kill the both of you for some reason.” Her throat went dry. “You said it’s been twelve years since we met. How…how old were you two?”

“I was thirteen,” Annie said, “and Historia was seven.”

She looked up, unable to hide her horror. “I was—I was sent to murder _children_? I _took_ that order?”

Annie put her other hand on Mikasa’s shoulder, pressing hard. “You didn’t know. When you came to us that night and found out, you took us away to keep us safe.”

“Just in time,” Historia said. “The empire fell a few days later—the kaiser and kaiserin were killed.”

“And King Raugraves took all these convenient moments to step in,” Mikasa said. “I see.” She exhaled slowly. “Then my plan is this. I aim to destroy the Reiss household and whatever power structure they have their hands in so that Historia may take control of it and act justly. And I will do everything within my power to restore you to your rightful place as kaiserin, your highness. May I have your assistance?”

Annie and Historia looked at each other. Historia said, “All you have to do is ask. We’ve prayed you’d come back so we could repay you.”

Mikasa felt tension leave her body. She smiled and said, “Thank you, miladies.”

“Can you carry one of these chests back upstairs?” Historia asked. “I want to surprise everyone.”

“Your staff is trustworthy?” Mikasa asked.

“Completely,” Historia said. “Don’t worry.”

“As you wish, milady,” Mikasa said. She took to her feet, taking down the lantern to give to Historia. A chest filled with coins and jewelry was what she chose, and Historia went first with Annie and Mikasa close behind. When they stepped back into the armory, Mikasa set the chest down to pull the wall closed. She reset the peg locks and replaced the bows.

“Mikasa,” Annie said, “wait.” She went to a case displaying only a single sword. Its scabbard was black, banded three times with gilded brass, and the pommel was a circle engraved with the sigil of a crimson tiger. She took it down and brought it over. She drew the sword, handing the scabbard to Historia, and said, “Kneel down.”

She did so, looking Annie in the eye.

“I was given leave by Johan Ackerman to name whosoever I chose to be the next head of the Ackerman house,” Annie said. “Before he died, he wrote a peerage title that passes his rank, power, and land to the person whose name I write on it.” She smiled slightly, nervously. “I’ve always hoped it would be your name.”

She lifted the sword upright. “I am Annie Leonhardt, kaiserin of the Leonhardt empire by birth. Do you swear to me your fealty, Mikasa?”

“I do, your highness,” Mikasa said.

She lay the flat of the blade on Mikasa’s right shoulder. “By the right given to me by Johan Ackerman, Count of Stohess, I name you Mikasa Ackerman, mistress of this house and this land.”

She moved the blade to rest on Mikasa’s left shoulder. “By the right of my birth, I name you an ally of my empire, and I bestow upon you the title of Reichsgräfin of Stohess. Rise, and take up your house’s sword.”

Mikasa stood when the blade was lifted from her. She took the scabbard first when Historia offered it, tying it to her belt. She took the sword next, brushing her fingers against Annie’s to feel that marvelous spark again. She sheathed the blade carefully, feeling the weight on her hip.

This done, she looked at Annie and smiled at her with as much warmth as she had felt when their skin touched. She took Annie’s hand and lifted it.

“I thank you for your kindness,” she said. “Please know that I am forever your faithful servant.” She bowed, kissing the back of Annie’s hand. When she straightened, she was startled to find that Annie was bright red and wide-eyed. She felt herself blush as well.

“I,” Mikasa stammered, “I—I apologize, your highness. It’s not my place to act so freely with you. I’m—I’m not actually of noble birth, and I—” She looked down, realizing that she had not let go of Annie’s hand. She did so quickly and looked back up. Embarrassed to the point of wanting to leave immediately, she quietly said, “Please forgive me, your highness.”

“For what?” Annie asked.

She opened her mouth, but words failed her.

“It’s fine,” Annie said, quiet and still blushing. “And it’s fine to call me ‘Annie’ in private. If—if I can call you ‘Mikasa.’”

“Of course,” Mikasa said. She looked to Historia. “Is the same true for you, milady?”

Historia outright grinned at them. “Absolutely! But let’s get back to the others—lunch should be ready soon, and I’m sure everyone will be excited!”

Mikasa nodded and hastily picked up the chest again. “Please, after you. I’m afraid I only know the way _here_ at the moment.” She waited for Historia to take Annie’s hand and tug her into walking before following close behind.

As they went back through the halls, she did not know why it made her heart skip when she glanced at Annie and found Annie glancing back. She did not know that the smiles she showed Annie in those moments were shy. Although she knew Annie’s smiles were shy, she could not focus on more than how lovely each of them were. Mikasa continued to smile, and even more when Annie blushed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All titles and ranks made in reference to the Leonhardt empire are taken from German ranks of nobility. The title Annie bestows upon Mikasa is specific: a countess of the empire.


	3. The Building of a Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa had believed that gaining more certainty about her goals would make things easier in some sense. She did not expect more people in the house that knew her identity, nor did she expect any physical weakness in herself.
> 
> Above all else, she was not prepared for how fervently she would be cared for upon arriving. Both Annie and Historia do their utmost to make her feel welcome and safe, and she swears to herself that she will do the same for them.
> 
> Still, it is a strange sort of feeling that comes to her when Annie spends time with her alone. Strange, but pleasant.

They returned to the parlor and found that another person had arrived. She was a tall woman, her hair and skin as dark as Bertholdt’s. Her eyes were honey-colored and narrow as she glared at Mikasa while she entered the room. Sitting slumped in a chair, she was very still and utterly silent.

Mikasa kept a casual eye on her, moving to set the chest of treasure on a nearby lounge. The woman’s clothes were not those of a servant: finely cut black trousers, a loose white tunic, and a navy blue waistcoat left unbuttoned. Her posture spoke not of servitude, but neither did it speak of a life birthed in nobility. It was only confidence covering the tension that made her brows lower.

“Who in the hell are _you_?” the woman demanded.

“Mikasa Ackerman,” she replied easily. “Surely Eren and Armin told you.”

“They did,” she said. “I don’t like the answer.”

Historia went to her quickly, squeezing her upper arm. “Ymir, she _is_. Please don’t worry.”

“More importantly,” Mikasa said, noticing the tray of food and wine on a table, “we’ve been on the road all morning. I would like to eat.”

“‘More importantly’?” Ymir said. “You’re wearing Johan’s sword.”

“It’s the sword of the head of the Ackerman house,” Annie said, “which makes it Mikasa’s.”

“What, precisely,” said Ymir, “are you here to do, oh Lady Ackerman?”

“Reichsgräfin,” Mikasa said, “per Annie. I’m here to claim every right my house affords me.”

Ymir stared, mouth falling open. She slowly stood up, starting to scowl.

Historia caught her hand. “Ymir, no, _wait_! That’s not what—”

Ymir pulled free, walking toward Mikasa with fast, hard steps. Her hand shot out.

Paling, Armin and Eren shouted, “Don’t do tha—”

Ymir’s fingers closed in the fabric of Mikasa’s shirt. Mikasa grabbed her instantly, twisting to roll Ymir over her shoulder and slam her down on the floor. Before Ymir could breathe in, she dropped down onto one knee and pressed the tips of her first two fingers against Ymir’s throat.

“Because you’re very nervous,” Mikasa said, “let me reassure you. I am not going to change anything about how _you_ live. That is not why I came here.”

Historia rushed to them, putting her hands around Mikasa’s elbow. “Please don’t! Please don’t hurt her!”

Mikasa drew her hand away. “As you wish.” She stood, took off her sword, and moved to sit in an armchair facing them. Hands folded in her lap, she watched Historia help Ymir sit upright.

“Tell me,” Mikasa said. “What are you so afraid of that you’ll do something as stupid as try to attack me?”

Ymir looked at her, but looked down when she said, “That you’ll go back on Johan’s word.”

She raised a brow. After a long while of silence, she sighed and waved at Eren and Armin. “Explain over lunch, if you could. I’m behind on my family history.”

Armin began to dole out food and drink, Bertholdt helping him. Ymir and Historia sat together on a lounge, Ymir looking shaken even as Bertholdt gave them bowls of pasta. Mikasa set her bowl on her leg, starting with a sip of her wine.

“Now,” she said. “I was told that the staff here is very trustworthy. I assume this goes for you as well, Ymir?”

Historia nodded for her. “I promise she is.”

“Then is it safe to assume that she knows who I really am?”

“That you were gonna kill them?” Ymir muttered. “Yeah, they told me.”

Historia pinched her thigh. “I also told you she’s the only reason we lived. She _wouldn’t_ kill us.”

She sighed, frowning. “Fine, I get it. She’s the long lost heroine who carried you out of Liūtas in your hour of need. What’re you doing here _now_?”

“Planning on how to destroy the Reiss house,” Mikasa said after swallowing a mouthful of pasta. “Or dismantle it to put Historia into power. Restoring Annie’s rule of Liūtas is just as important.”

Ymir stared at her. “Wha—seriously? You vanished twelve years ago and now you come back and spout _that_? Have you spent all this time coming up with a plan? Building an army?”

“I was in Utgard,” Mikasa replied. “If I had any detailed plans, my jailers took them from me when they destroyed my memories. Although those seem to be coming back here and there.”

There was nothing but loathing in Ymir’s voice when she said, “And now you’re the mistress of the Ackerman house.”

“That’s right.” She regarded Ymir coolly. “Why don’t you explain who _you_ are to be living here so casually? I’m not opposed to letting you stay, but I want information. What is your name?”

“Ymir.”

“Your _full_ name.”

“That _is_ my full name, asshole. Bandit heirs don’t have ‘family’ names until they marry their contract.”

She kept herself from boggling. “I beg your pardon?”

Armin leaned forward, smiling with eagerness. “So this is what Lady Annie meant by control of the bandit network! I’ve never heard of a contract being made at such a high level of nobility!”

“ _Armin_ ,” Mikasa sighed.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” He looked between Ymir, Historia, and Annie. “Um, may I explain it to her?”

“Feel free,” Annie said, lazily waving a hand before returning to her lunch.”

“Thank you.” He turned to Mikasa, waiting until she continued eating. “Bandit networks can exist by themselves, but they like to make alliances with powerful families to ensure that the military is turned away from capturing or imprisoning their members.

“Inheritors of a network are sent to make contracts with heads of the family, or their heirs or wards, and when they marry their contract, they take the family name to legitimize everything.”

Something bristled along Mikasa’s spine as she turned to Annie. “Then you’re contracted with Ymir?”

“ _I_ am,” Historia said quietly. “Johan said Ymir could ask either one of us to be her contract. She asked me three years ago, and I said yes.”

Surprise made her silent for a moment. She smiled, shaking her head. “Historia, what in the world makes you think I’d disrupt you being happy? I would never force you to break your contract if Ymir makes you happy.”

Gaping, Ymir asked, “You’re kidding, right? You’ve gotta be fucking with us.”

“Why would that be?”

“We—the church laws!” Ymir protested. “You can’t be serious about letting us be in public! Even my bandits can’t pull in enough to pay the fines!”

Her smile grew smug as she gestured to the chest. “If you would be kind enough to open that.”

Hesitating, Ymir set her empty bowl aside and went to the chest. She flicked the clasps and opened the lid. Going pasty at its shimmering, gleaming contents, she slammed the lid shut again.

“I can’t speak for Annie, Reiner, or Bertholdt,” Mikasa said, “but you can rest assured that Eren, Armin, and I are ‘sinners’ just as much as you. I will take care of whatever ridiculous thing the church tries to threaten any of you with.”

“And what about you?” asked Ymir.

“What about me?”

“You won’t take care of what comes after you?”

Mikasa did not move, nor did she look at anything other than her glass of wine. It was almost empty, barely enough to swirl idly. One side of her head began to split with pain, feeling as though nails were being pushed through it. She eventually said, “I doubt it will come to that. It’s likely that I’ve grown too old to consider looking for someone.”

“You’re thirty-seven,” Annie mumbled.

She looked at her quickly, wincing as her head snapped about. “What?”

“You said you were twenty-five when we left Liūtas,” Annie said. “Same as I am now. Add twelve, and you’re thirty-seven.” She shrugged, eyes averted. “I don’t think that’s too old.”

Her throat went dry. She did her best to ignore it. “Then…I suppose I’d take care of myself and whoever I found if it happened.” She looked at her bowl. Her food was only half eaten, but she did not want to continue. She stood up, setting her glass and bowl in the chair before reaching for her sword. Feeling eyes on her, she glanced up to see Annie watching her nervously. She closed her hand and drew it back empty.

“Please excuse me,” she said. “I have a rather bad headache. I’m going to step outside.” She left before anyone could speak, moving quickly to avoid heading a call of her name or pursuing footsteps. Following the path they had taken led her to the veranda easily enough, and she went down the nearby steps into the large courtyard below. While there were plenty of outdoor chairs and lounges, she chose to sit on the ground with her back against the wall. It left her in shadow and out of sight.

What she had done constituted as running away, but she did not feel like admitting it. She stared out at the sea, feeling the breeze but not being soothed by it. Her head hurt badly enough that she grew nauseous, and she drew up her legs to hide her face and her eyes in her knees. Unmoving, silent, she did her best to breathe. When a voice spoke softly near her, she did not know how long it had been since she sat down.

“Mikasa?” Annie’s voice repeated.

She lifted her head only enough to look up. The worried look on Annie’s face made her stomach churn all the worse, and she hid her face again. Muffled, she said, “Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

“You look like you have a migraine and that you’re going to pass out from it,” Annie said. “Come with me.”

Mikasa meant to look up again, but a cloud moved away from the sun and the strengthened light made the nails inside her skull grow sharper and more jagged. She quickly closed her eyes and hid them against her knees. “I’d like to stay here until it stops.”

“Then I’m making it an order. Come with me.” When Mikasa winced, she lowered her voice and reached out to take her hand. “You can keep your eyes shut. I’ll guide you.”

Though she grimaced, she got to her feet. She held Annie’s hand tightly as she was led away from her spot. When Annie murmured, “Stairs,” she took care to lift her feet properly. She followed Annie back inside, dreading the moment that someone would call out to them. All remained silent but for the scuff of her boots on the floor.

“Stairs,” Annie said again. Up they went, following the sharp corners of a stairwell. A long hallway was traversed, but its floor was covered in carpeting and made her footfalls silent. When they stopped, Mikasa wanted nothing more than to sink to the floor.

“Hang on,” Annie said. She opened a door and brought Mikasa inside. Once the door was closed, she pulled Mikasa along to something soft and cool to the touch. “Sit.”

She did so, but soon lay down on her side with her feet still on the floor. The urge to press her hands down over her eyes filled her, but the thought of touching her head made her want to cry. She flinched at the sound of curtains being drawn, but relaxed without thinking when the level of light fell dramatically. She opened one eye the least she could.

The room was opulent, but not to the point where it felt uncomfortable to be there. The walls were painted deeply green with thin, dark gold lines at the borders created by cream white moulding that intersected the walls vertically and paneling of the same color that covered the bottom third of every wall. In the nearest corner was an armchair and footstool, both a similar shade of green as the walls.

“Where are we?” Mikasa asked, voice weak.

“Your bedroom,” Annie replied. “Technically.”

“What?”

“These are the quarters of the head of the house. I’ve been using them since Johan passed away, but they’re yours now. Can you get on your back?”

Moving much further was unappealing, and so she only rolled slightly. Her heel clunked on the floor. She stared up at the ceiling with her one open eye. The stabbing throb in her head drowned out sound, but she knew when Annie came closer.

“Close your eye,” Annie murmured. When she had been obeyed, she gently put a cold wet towel over Mikasa’s eyes and forehead. Mikasa stiffened for a moment before exhaling shakily.

“Did this happen to me while we were escaping Liūtas?” she asked. “This feels familiar.”

“Once,” Annie said. “After we were far out to sea, you could barely move. Historia knew just what to do to help you.” She sat down slowly at Mikasa’s side. “My father…he dealt with migraines identical to yours. Historia had this bizarre intuition about how to take care of him—she knew all the warning signs, and she was the only one to get him back to himself within a day or two. So when it happened to you, she knew how to take care of you.”

“I was an assassin despite this glaring physical flaw?”

“I don’t think they happened that often. Historia told me that it was probably from the stress of everything and the fact that you barely ate anything for the six days it took to get on the ship.”

“And right now?”

“I’d guess it’s the stress of meeting us again after your memories were destroyed.” She turned the towel over, brushing Mikasa’s damp hair away before setting it down. “Maybe the food, too, since Marco puts too much seasoning in things sometimes.”

“Thank you,” Mikasa whispered. “This is helping.”

“Tell me when you can sit up again. I have medicine for this.”

Thinking was difficult. She turned her head toward Annie. “Did you inherit it from your father?”

“I did. But Historia’s taught me everything I need to know, so it’s—fine.”

There was a strange hesitance in Annie’s voice, and Mikasa’s brows lowered slightly beneath the towel. “Annie?” She froze when Annie stroked her hair.

“It’s been a long day,” Annie murmured. “I mean it when I say you can relax here. You’re home.”

She did not reply, too focused on the feeling of Annie’s fingers in her hair. Her silence and stillness was so complete that Annie paused.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Annie said. “It’s better to take medicine before you do.”

“Annie?” Mikasa said. “Have you been waiting for me to come back all this time?”

Her fingers went still. She drew her hand away. Quietly, she replied, “Is that wrong of me?”

Mikasa could not think of an answer other than, “I suppose not.”

“Then why ask?”

“Curiosity. I don’t think you could blame me for that.”

“Fair.” She sighed. “Think you can sit up now?”

“I think so.” She fumbled to take the towel from her face, flinching when Annie slowly lifted it. Very carefully, she opened her eyes. The room was nearly pitch black, but the light that slipped under the heavy curtains left her head pounding. She pushed herself into sitting, but could not stand.

“You can stay there. Hang on.” She took to her feet, heading off.

Mikasa turned slightly to look around. The bed she was on was enormous, its bedding crimson embroidered with golden thread. The room beyond was equally large, a number of bookcase built into the walls and a large writing desk taking up the space between the two sets of doors hidden by the curtains. She turned back around to stare at her feet. She leaned down to untie her boots, but found her balance lacking enough to send her tilting too far forward.

She grabbed the bedding as she fell, able to slow down and turn to land on her rear gently. Frowning, she pulled her legs up to untie her boots. She worked them off her feet with hands that did not want to cooperate.

“Wha— _Mikasa_?”

“Floor.”

Hurried footsteps brought Annie back carrying a glass of water and something in her other hand. She was pale, looking shaken.

“I,” Mikasa said, “I…fell. I tried to take my boots off. That’s all.”

Annie said nothing and did nothing. She closed her eyes tightly, opened them, and knelt down. “Take these. It’ll help.”

Mikasa took the glass, holding out her hand. Annie placed two white tablets of medicine in her palm and sat down to lean against the bed to watch her. Mikasa took the medicine and all of the water, but grew still when she saw the tension in Annie’s shoulders.

“Did…did you think I’d disappeared?”

Annie said nothing at all, staring at the floor.

Mikasa looked at the empty glass. She ran her thumb over a spot where a drop clung to the inside of the glass. “Are you worried that I’ll think it’s a childish fear?”

“I’m not worried you’ll think it,” Annie muttered, “because I know it is.” She pulled her legs up to her chest and held them. “I’m twenty-five. I shouldn’t be afraid of things I know will happen eventually.”

Her heart felt as though it had stopped. “Did you think I’d abandoned you when I didn’t come back?”

After a moment of silence, she said, “I knew you didn’t, but it still felt that way. I was lonely. Having Historia still with me helped, but you were the only other person we knew in Sina that really cared about us. However briefly, anyway.” She shrugged. “I was a stupid kid. Ignore it.”

“No,” Mikasa said.

“Excuse me?”

“I swore my fealty to you. I was serious when I told you that I am your faithful servant. Whether you order it or not, I will never leave you again. I won’t abandon you.”

Annie frowned. “Don’t treat me like a child and make promises you can’t—”

“I am _not_ treating you like a child. You are an adult—that’s the only way I see you, and that’s the only way I _will_ see you.” She winced, regretting the act of raising her voice. Far more quietly, she said, “Annie, I’m sorry that I failed to come back—more than I’ve been sorry for anything. I’m certain it was the last thing I wanted back then. If you can…please forgive me for my lack of skill in the past.”

Annie stared at her from the corner of her eye. Still frowning, she put a hand in her own hair and rubbed her head. “I’ve wanted you here for the last twelve years. You’re here now. That makes up for it.” She rubbed her eyes before taking her hand away. “Get in bed to sleep off your migraine. I’ll make everyone stay away from here and be quiet.” She stood up, not noticing that Mikasa hurried to do the same. She startled when Mikasa lay a hand on her cheek and made her turn.

“I _am_ sorry,” Mikasa said. “I will make it up to you. Somehow.”

It was nothing less than shock on Annie’s face then. She stared at Mikasa’s eyes, her own eyes wide, but soon looked down. Mikasa felt heat rising in Annie’s cheek, but Annie pushed her hand away.

Eyes still averted, Annie muttered, “For the love of God, just go to sleep.”

She felt her shoulders fall toward the weight in her chest. Unable to keep dullness from her voice, she began to say, “As you wish, your high—”

Annie’s hand snapped up to slap her hard enough to turn her head. When Mikasa looked at her, even more startled than Annie had been, Annie choked out, “Don’t call me that! All I’ve wanted for years is for you to just be here and call me by my name! For you to just _be here_ with me! Not with the little girl you rescued—just _me_!”

When Annie’s voice failed, Mikasa stepped closer and pulled her into her arms. She said nothing because she could feel Annie begin to shake. Annie buried her face in her chest, and Mikasa held her head there. When she felt wet flares of heat seep through her shirt, she tipped her head down to rest her cheek on her head.

“I will,” Mikasa whispered. “I promise.”

Annie eventually nodded, head rocking against Mikasa’s chest. She did not push Mikasa’s hands away when she put them to her cheeks to wipe them dry. Annie looked up, eyes exhausted but cheeks still pink. A wild impulse to sweetly kiss her settled in Mikasa’s chest. She denied it when Annie lowered her gaze.

“I’ll go to sleep,” she said. “Thank you for your care.”

“You’re welcome,” Annie replied. Hesitating, she said, “I’m sorry for slapping you when you have a migraine.”

“I’ll be fine,” Mikasa said, tucking a strand of hair behind Annie’s ear. “I have a feeling I’ve dealt with worse.”

Annie did not meet her gaze, instead taking Mikasa’s right hand. She pressed her lips to the knuckle of her middle finger, lingering a long time. Even when she lifted her head, she did not look up.

“Rest well, Schönheit,” Annie murmured, and she left without another word.

Mikasa stared at the door for minutes after it closed. Her head did not throb as much as before, even with the slap, but it remained too much to think. Sighing softly, she turned and climbed into bed. The room was warm enough that she did not bother to get under the covers. She lay on her side, head on a pillow that perfectly balanced softness and firmness, and curled up.

She tried, for a bit, to remember what “schönheit” translated to in the common tongue in Sina. Her eyes closed before she could manage it.

————

A murky face in a murkier room hovered before her. She did not know if it was above or below her, or to her left or right. She could not hear more than a low drone. Something smelled strange, but she did not know if it was some kind of smoke. As though it was happening beneath the surface of the sea, a hand grabbed the back of her shirt, high on the back to twist the fabric and choke her. Before she could pull free, a knife stabbed her in the back on the left side, angled under her ribs.

Something was on the blade, and it sent her to her knees with failing muscles. She toppled onto the floor, wheezing and clutching her left side. The vibrations of approaching feet made her look up. Her body tried to fail, but this time around, she remembered that she needed to return somewhere. She grabbed the booted foot that aimed to kick her head. She wrenched it hard, turning to pull him down with her at all costs. They fell, and she drew back her right fist to smash in his skull.

Mikasa woke instantly when her punch landed on the floor, shredding the skin on her knuckles and spraining her wrist. Swearing with pain and fury, she dropped back to push against the bed. Her eyes darted about frantically; she did not recognize where she was.

“Mikasa!”

She looked up, panicked without knowing why. Historia came around the bed, holding Mikasa’s coat, and she dropped to her knees before her.

“Let me see your hand,” Historia said. “I could hear that punch from the door.”

“Wh-what’re you doing in here?” Mikasa asked.

“Annie asked me to check on you and bring your coat. I mean it, let me see your hand. I want to make sure you didn’t break anything.”

Aware of how badly it was shaking, she gave her hand to Historia. She asked, “What happened? Who else was here?”

“No one,” Historia said firmly. “You were having a nightmare and you fell out of bed before I could get to you.” She sighed at the blood running down Mikasa’s fingers and the back of her hand. “I’m glad you hit the rug. You might’ve broken your hand on the wood. Or you might’ve broken the floorboards, now that I think of it.”

“I didn’t dream the entire time after I escaped,” Mikasa said. “Why now?”

“It could’ve been from the migraine. But I don’t remember you having a nightmare when we left Liūtas.” When Mikasa said nothing, she asked, “Is the migraine gone? You’ve slept all day.”

She considered the state of pain in her body. While her hand and wrist burned, her head was calm. “I believe so.”

“Good. Come on, let’s get your hand tidied up.” She held Mikasa’s left hand when she got to her feet, leading her into a bathroom that was larger than most of the rooms Mikasa had slept in over the journey. Historia sat her down in a chair before a sink built in a stone counter, moving away to flick something on a wall. Mikasa shot to her feet when a light behind a frosted glass covering turned on. She stared, but relaxed and sat down.

“I forgot about electricity,” she said.

“We had the manor refitted about five or six years ago. Johan had trouble seeing by then, and the lights helped.” She ducked under the sink to retrieve a large first aid kit.

“What did he need with all of _that_?” Mikasa asked, watching Historia dig to find bandaging and a wrap.

“What?” Historia asked, distracted as she searched. Looking up, she saw Mikasa gesture to the kit. “Oh! No, this is Annie’s. Ymir and I have one in our room. Everyone does, since we get roughed up when we practice.”

“‘Practice’?”

“Yeah. Hold your hand out in the sink.” She washed Mikasa’s hand carefully. “Johan was able to teach Annie a lot before he passed away, and she teaches me now.”

“How to fight?”

“Yep! You should spar with Annie once you get back into top form.”

She looked away. “I would prefer to not make her any more upset with me than she currently is, and I believe I’m on thin ice already.”

Historia paused after turning off the water and getting a towel. “She’s not upset with you. Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m worried she’s bitter about me not coming back for over a decade. If I’d held onto the fact that you two were waiting for me…I don’t know. I wouldn’t have given up in Utgard like I did. But now I don’t know how I can make it up to either of you.”

“Just stay with us,” Historia said quietly. “Stay safe with us. We’ve prayed for that so much since we arrived here.”

“I will,” said Mikasa.

Historia smiled and began to bandage and wrap her injuries. “Then Annie will get herself figured out.” She giggled. “To be honest, I think she’s overwhelmed that you’re finally here. We forgot how much _taller_ you are than us.”

She blinked as something came to mind. “Are there gestures in Liūtas that aren’t used in Sina?”

“Of course.”

“What does it mean when someone kisses the knuckle of your right middle finger?”

“That’s to tell the person you’re sorry for something.”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “What does ‘schönheit’ mean?”

“It means ‘beauty,’ but a lot of people used it as a pet name for someone they like.” Her smile faltered for shock when Mikasa went bright red and looked down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—yes, I’m fine.” She remained silent while Historia finished wrapped her wrist, staring at her knees.

“Would you like anything to eat?” Historia asked. “I can take you to the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

A part of her felt like arguing. It gave way when Historia reached over to take her undamaged hand. She stood up and followed after her. Before they left, Historia gave her back her coat, helping her drape it over her shoulders to avoid the sleeves. Mikasa did not bother putting her boots on, and they padded along quietly in the halls and stairs. They met no one as they passed through the spills of moonlight and pools of shadows, and the kitchen was warm and dark when they arrived.

Historia turned on a light, peering about. “I thought they were going to leave something out.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to make anything.”

“Oh, hush. I just saw you have a nightmare bad enough to make you fall out of bed. I can at least make you a sandwich.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Your shadow’s glare says otherwise.”

Historia turned. “My what?”

Mikasa stepped aside to show Ymir standing behind her, leaning against the doorframe. She looked Ymir up and down. “Who taught you to follow a mark as quietly as that?”

“Ymir, _dammit_ , I told you not to do that to her!” Historia snapped. “She’s not here to con us!”

“Uh huh,” Ymir grumbled. “Forgive me for not instantly trusting someone who threw me like that.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t tried to grab me,” Mikasa said. “Please understand that I’ve spent years in Utgard and my memories were destroyed every time I was grabbed suddenly. I would greatly prefer to not repeat what I did, and I apologize for it.”

Ymir regarded her for a while longer before walking into the kitchen. “C’mere, Hvolpur. Mina stuck that extra food in the pantry.”

Historia smiled wearily. “You big stupid Úlfur.”

“Your Úlfur,” Ymir muttered, vanishing into the pantry. She returned with a covered plate, setting it down on a nearby work counter. “Historia told her to go easy on the spices.” She meant to move away, but stopped when she noticed how Mikasa stared at her. “What?”

“Where are you from?” Mikasa asked. “I don’t recognize what you called each other.”

“What, úlfur and hvolpur?” Ymir asked. “They’re words from Úlfurheim. It’s…uh…they mean ‘wolf’ and ‘puppy.’”

“Úlfurheim,” Mikasa murmured. “Then you’re a northerner. You’re far from home in Stohess.”

Ymir shrugged. “It’s my blood relatives in charge of the bandit networks all along from the north of Sina. Not like any of us got our line dirty with common Sina blood.”

Mikasa chuckled. “A proud wolf, I see. You’re a good match for Historia. I’m glad.” She went to the counter, lifting the plate’s cover. It revealed a number of meatballs, pressed slightly flat as they had been pan-fried. They were still warm to the touch, and smelled deeply of onions and the flecks of breadcrumbs folded within the beef. She picked one up and took a bite. It was marvelously juicy and had the faintest crunch at the edges. She savored every morsel.

“Wait, what’s wrong with your hand?” Ymir asked.

“I punched the floor in my sleep,” Mikasa said easily. “I’ll try to avoid doing it again.”

“Fuck, seriously?” Ymir said, sneering. “All anyone has been talking about is taking you out into town to get shit. You look like a vagabond in those rags—why’d you do something that’ll make it harder to get fit for new clothes?”

“Are you criticizing my clothing? They were the only things the smugglers who rescued me could spare.”

“Don’t care. They look old.”

She smirked. “Then take me into town and say I’ve been on the road honing my skills as a warrior. You can even use my injury and my seemingly poor health as other reasons I’ve come back.”

Historia smiled brightly. “That’s _perfect_! Armin and I have been trying to come up with a cover story!”

Nodding, Mikasa put her fingers in her mouth one at a time to clean them off. “I’m glad it’ll work.”

“Gotta throw a party soon, though,” said Ymir.

She turned to stare at her. “I have to do _what_?”

“Oh,” Historia said, mood deflating. “We will. It’s Sina tradition for the inheritor of a noble house to throw an introduction party for themselves. You have to do that soon.”

“No,” Mikasa said as the blood drained from her face. “N—you don’t understand. Regardless of how I speak, I don’t—I can’t interact with that many nobles at the same time. I _know_ I don’t know how. I didn’t know I needed to—”

“We’ll teach you,” Historia said gently. “I’m sure you’ll learn quickly. Please don’t worry.”

“If I can do it, you’ll be fine,” Ymir said. “Just remember—if someone insults you, you get to deck ‘em as head of the house.”

Mikasa said nothing.

Historia went to her, putting her hands on her elbow. “We’ll protect _you_ now. It’ll be fine.” She smiled. “Believe me. Annie knows her way around these dumb parties. She’ll make it look like you’re in charge the whole time, even if you’re not ready by then.”

She still said nothing, instead concentrating on the way her chest tightened.

“Go get some more sleep,” said Historia. “We can start late tomorrow.”

Not knowing what else to do, Mikasa nodded. She turned and walked away. The way back to her room was simple to follow now, but she went slower in her solitude. Once upstairs, though, she lost certainty in which door was hers. She hesitated, wishing she had paused to count out doors beforehand. Making a choice at random, she went to one door and tried the knob. It stopped hard and loud on a lock; she pulled her hand away quickly.

“If Mikasa’s all right now,” Annie’s voice called through the door, “go to bed, Historia. And thank you.”

She stared at the door. Her feet had frozen to the soft rug beneath them. What she felt was foolish, she decided. It was foolish, childish, and stupid above all else. She wanted to see Annie one more time to make sure she was not a dream or a ghost. It seemed terribly likely in that moment. Frowning at herself, she tried to will movement out of her numb legs.

“Historia?” Annie said, voice louder with closeness.

Mikasa felt panic when the lock turned and the door opened. Based on the expression that appeared on her face, Mikasa was certain Annie felt the same. They stood there with their eyes wide. Mikasa tried not to stare at Annie’s hair, down from its bun and gold in the light from a lamp near an armchair.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you,” Mikasa said. “It was an accident. I didn’t check which was my room when I left with Historia before.”

“Three more to your right,” Annie mumbled.

She looked to the right, counting. “I see. Thank you. And thank you for sending Historia. It was sweet of you.” When Annie nodded, she knew she should turn and walk away. Her feet were still frozen, and her mouth took the chance to speak without guidance from her brain.

“Your hair is lovely,” she said. “It’s like the treasure we found, but…much softer.”

Annie shivered once from her spine outward. “Why are you telling me this?”

She thought and found an answer. “Because I wanted to see you smile.” She put her left hand on Annie’s cheek. “I know I have no right to your smile, but I love to see it.”

“What did you do to your other hand?”

“I punched the floor when I fell out of bed. It’s fine.”

Annie sighed. She opened her mouth. She closed it, and soon after her eyes followed. She put her hand on top of Mikasa’s. With her free hand, she caught Mikasa’s scarf. When she pulled her down, she opened her eyes long enough to make sure she did not miss. She kissed Mikasa, and neither of them knew what made them stop breathing. When Annie pulled away, Mikasa followed to kiss her in return. Still, they parted quickly, and they could not look at each other.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Annie whispered. Before Mikasa’s heart could splinter, she added, “Not yet. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I,” Mikasa said. She leaned down again to kiss Annie’s cheek. “Rest well, Annie.”

“You too.” She closed the door when Mikasa walked away, barely making a sound.

Mikasa went to her room and locked the door behind her. She climbed into bed fully dressed and got under the covers, pulling them over her head. She prayed that Annie would sleep well, but did not pray for herself. She did not know if she should pray to forget or to remember. Eventually, she fell into a sleep without dreams.

————

Predictably, Armin and Eren were deeply displeased by the sight of her wrist in the morning. When Eren started to scowl at Ymir from across the dining table during breakfast, Mikasa reached out to tug hard on his ear.

“I honestly did do this by punching the floor after falling out of bed,” she said. “Ymir did nothing to me.”

Ymir grinned and stuck her tongue out at Eren. She flinched when Historia pinched her forearm.

“Noble manners today, please,” Historia said. “We all have to go out.”

“Bleh,” Ymir muttered.

“Oh, stop it. You know you’ll be with me.”

“I stand by what I said.”

“Ymir, could you loan Mikasa something to wear for a few days?” Annie asked. “Just so it looks like she had something waiting for her when she came home.”

“Since I’m the only one in the house she’d fit? Sure. Follow me after breakfast.”

Annie toyed with a wedge of an orange, looking at it with a raised brow. “Armin, why don’t you come with me and Mikasa to the tailor? Eren can go with Historia and Ymir to order more food and supplies for the house. And spread the word about Mikasa coming home while you’re at it.”

“Are you sure revealing her now is a good idea?” Armin asked. “If we have to hold an event here, wouldn’t it be better to wait for her to regain some—er, gain more of her strength back?”

“It’ll be fine,” said Mikasa. “Annie and Historia can teach me whatever I need to know.”

Armin frowned slightly and sighed. “Well…as long as you’re comfortable with it.” He chuckled. “Then again, everything you do is fairly ‘do or die.’”

She smiled. “It seems so.” She did not look at Annie, or at least not until she knew no one was focusing on either of them. Annie caught her looking, but did not frown. Mikasa smiled gently, and Annie returned it before looking at her breakfast again. They all finished in short order, and Mikasa followed Ymir out of the dining hall. Heading upstairs, Ymir brought her to a room a few doors to the left of Annie’s.

It was more chaotic than Mikasa was prepared for, with the bed left unmade, sleeping clothes tossed atop it, and books and papers stacked messily on the writing desk and in the bookcases. The only area kept tidy was a corner near the door where a cello stood near a padded wooden chair holding a violin case.

“Do you and Historia play together, by chance?” Mikasa asked. “A cello seems too large for her.”

“Yeah. Johan got a teacher for me when he saw that I wanted to play with her.”

“He was a good man, wasn’t he.”

“He was. What other Sina noble would let me and Historia stay in the same room?”

“Point.” She took the opportunity of Ymir going to find clothing for her to look around more closely. On a more thorough inspection, she found many of the loose pieces of paper were clippings from newspapers. The clippings told a story of Liūtas and the lingering discontent in its populace. Every so often, she caught sight of small articles telling of some new magnanimous deed done by the Reiss household. She set them aside and noted them as lies in her mind.

“Here we go,” Ymir said, returning. “Trousers, a belt, and shirts. They’ve got short sleeves to keep your wrist in the open.”

“Thank you,” said Mikasa. “I’ll be down after I clean up.”

“Yeah, you kinda stink of the road.”

“You are _absolutely_ charming.”

Ymir smirked and ushered her out of the room. She left Mikasa to her own devices then, and Mikasa went to take a brief bath. She set some of the clothes on the counter in the bathroom, undoing the bandaging on her hand and wrist. Stripping down, she sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the water to warm up.

It was an idle movement, turning to look over her shoulder at the nearby mirror. She stopped short, eyes widening at the sight of a scar on her back. It was on the left side and just below her ribs. The scar was ragged, and she could tell it had healed poorly years ago. Hastily, she turned away, stopped the drain, and sat in the warm rising water.

A tentative press on the scar caused no pain. She lay her hand on her back, trying to remember where it was in relation to the knife in her dream. It seemed correctly placed, but she chose not to face it at that moment. Mikasa cleaned herself until she could no longer feel dried saltwater in the creases of her fingers and toes. She dried, dressed, and bound up her injuries with motions that felt practiced.

Although it made her wince, she tied her hair back and put her boots on properly. Her coat was retrieved from the bed, and she went downstairs trying to avoid looking pensive. She was lost for a moment, but followed the sound of conversation to find everyone waiting in the grand entrance to the manor. Armin and Eren stood by wearing packs, and when she passed by them and they moved, she heard the faint chime of wealthy coins in the bags.

“Shall we, my ladies Renz?” Mikasa asked, bowing slightly.

“Of course, my reichsgräfin,” Annie replied. She did not move for a moment when Mikasa offered her left arm, but soon took it. They all headed out, breaking off into two groups after leaving the grounds. Xenten was far livelier than when she had arrived the day before. Mikasa found herself more grateful for the steadiness of Annie’s hand than she thought she would be.

None of the increasingly curious and baffled looks sent their way garnered more of Annie’s attention than casual acknowledgment in passing. Armin followed her lead perfectly, graciously tipping his head now and again. Mikasa put coolness in her gaze, but smiled warmly at those they passed by. They reached the tailor’s shop some distance into the town without being stopped, but Annie stopped short after looking in the window.

“Löwengöttin help me,” she muttered, grimacing. She tightened her grip on Mikasa’s arm and led her inside. When Armin helpfully tapped a bell on the service counter, she looked as though she would kick him.

“Yes, one moment!” a woman called back, waving her hand over a table piled high with cloth. She straightened up, pulling hard on a tape measure to free it from between the cloth and the table. When it sprang free, she wrapped it around her hand and tucked it into a pocket on her apron. Her hair was wavy, cut to her chin, and a dirty brown. She looked up, saw Annie, and smiled too crookedly to be entirely pleasant.

“Milady Renz!” the woman said, dropping into a curtesy. “It’s been _ages_ since you came!”

Mikasa felt Annie’s fingers twitch on her arm, but waited.

“So what can I make for you today?” the woman asked. “Yet more trousers and hooded shirts, or has your sister finally turned you around to skirts and dresses? Here, let’s get your measurements in case they’ve changed.” She came toward them, stride easy. Before she could draw close enough to make Annie’s fingers twitch again, Mikasa stepped forward between them.

“My apologies,” Mikasa said, offering her left hand. “I’d shake properly, but you can see my arm. I’m your client today, Miss?”

“Hitch Dreyse,” the woman said, taking her hand awkwardly. “And you are?”

“Mikasa Ackerman,” she replied. “I must say that there wasn’t anyone working here as inviting as you when last I was home.”

Hitch gaped at her unabashedly. “You’re— _who_?”

“Mikasa Ackerman,” she repeated.

“The count had children?”

“Yes, but I’m not at home that often.” She gave her smile regret. “Word of Father’s passing did not reach me until very recently. I knew I had to come home.”

Hitch boggled. “Oh. I…wow, I didn’t know at all. You really aren’t here too much.”

“Unfortunately. I’d forgotten how lovely Xenten is, and how pleasant its people. Please—I hope you’ll all treat me well.” She bowed, smiling gently.

The sight of this made Hitch’s brows rise. She chuckled, shaking her head. “Lady Renz, your new head of the house has a much softer tongue than you. I’ll be glad to help.” She circled around Mikasa, gauging her measurements and the state of her clothes. “The coat’s a bit dirty. Is it your traveling coat?”

“It is.”

“Ah. We’ll get a more formal coat going. Come on back so I can measure you properly.”

Mikasa followed her to a room in the back of the shop, setting her coat and scarf in a wooden chair in the corner. Hitch knelt down quickly to untie her boots, gesturing to them when she stood. Once Mikasa had stepped out of them, Hitch began to measure her closely. She scratched down the measurements on a pad from her apron.

“So,” Hitch said.

When she did not continue, Mikasa said, “Yes?”

“Both Ladies Renz are of marrying age. Been that way for a while now, especially Annie.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. What does it have to do with me?”

“It’s shameful for them to be alone so long. Count Ackerman was too free with them. He really should have wed them off before he passed.”

She smiled. “Ah, yes. Admittedly, it’s out of the ordinary.”

“They’ve been alone for a _long_ time! It’d be kinder to get them married. I know a few gents in the local branch of the Military Police. Ranked officers, too! Perfect matches for nobles on their level.”

“I see. Allow me to consider your generous offer. It’s not a matter to be handled lightly, don’t you think?”

“Ease them into it, right?”

“Precisely. And please don’t send them to call on either of the ladies. I’m not accepting visitors or correspondence to the estate that aren’t strictly on business. For a while, at least.”

“I don’t blame you. Get your affairs in order.”

“Until the party we’ll have.”

Hitch laughed. “Right.” She finished her measurements, reviewing them closely.

“If you could, please cut them a little loose. I’ve been ill for the last few weeks—I need to gain weight back.”

“Not a problem. Come pick out colors.”

She followed after putting her boots and coat back on. Hitch’s suggestions were almost fully agreed with, though they discussed her formal coat at length before coming to a decision. Hitch abruptly stopped in talking about a type of fabric for the coat.

“I forgot,” she said. “Is it only trousers for you?”

After a moment of thought, she said, “Trousers for the most part, but a skirt or two for lounging would be nice.”

Hitch grinned. “Excellent. I’ll have another tailor help me get everything ready. Give us a few days and we’ll visit to do a pinning. Sound all right?”

“Perfect. Shall I pay now or later?”

“On delivery of the finished goods. Work and materials, after all.”

“Of course.” She offered her left hand again. “Until we meet again, Miss Dreyse.”

“A pleasure, your excellency,” Hitch said, shaking her hand.

Mikasa departed with a faint bow, beckoning Armin away from a rack of coats. Annie stood outside away from the shop windows with her arms crossed.

“I don’t blame you in the slightest,” Mikasa whispered when she was close. “How long has she badgered you about marrying someone?”

“Seven years,” Annie grumbled. “A lot of people have. They’re worse to Historia.”

“I see.” She offered her arm. “I told her I would ‘consider’ her offer. Don’t worry.”

Annie took her arm. “I won’t.” She thought, looking around for a moment. “Is there anywhere else you’d like to go?”

“Well…I assume the manor has a library, so I’m all right.”

“We can still go to a bookstore. Come on.” She led Mikasa and Armin off to a different part of town, passing by more and more people that peered at them curiously. Mikasa and Armin continued to be polite as they went, garnering smiles that were cautiously welcoming. They came to a broad plaza, somewhat circular around a large fountain. The sound of the water was soothing beneath the chatter of townspeople going about their business.

Mikasa turned slightly as they passed close to the fountain. She meant to take in the fountain’s coiling metalwork and the brightly speckled stones below the water. Her gaze was caught by a trio of men on the other side of the fountain, two standing and the other sitting. They wore officious coats of dark brown leather, adorned on the upper arms and chest with emblems of a verdant green unicorn, its horn a blade and its mane white.

Fury filled her on seeing the emblem. She fought to keep her expression pleasant, but Annie saw how her hand closed into a fist so tight it popped her knuckles. Annie looked without turning her head.

“Shit,” she hissed. “Keep moving and don’t get their attention.”

It was an order Mikasa tried to follow, but one man saw her turn away. On noticing Annie at her side, he jogged around the fountain to come before them. He bowed at the waist to Annie and smiled after straightening, not bothering to look at anyone but her. Mikasa thought his hair was cut strangely, nearly shorn from the level of his ears down and left shaggy on top. It had a two tone effect, the bottom looking black and the top a dark blond.

“My Lady Renz!” he said. “You’re looking in fine form today. Out on business?”

“Yes,” she said flatly, and said no more.

He smiled regardless. “No sister for the day, then?” He glanced at Mikasa and Armin, but his confused gaze lingered on Armin. “Are you showing new servants around?”

“For Armin, yes,” Mikasa said. “For me, no.”

His smile faltered when he finally looked at her. He tried to raise a brow, but there was a small crack in his voice when he asked, “Then who are you to be walking so freely with Lady Renz?”

She offered her hand, smiling. “I am Mikasa Ackerman, sir. Who are you to be _speaking_ so freely to either of us?”

His jaw dropped as a blush covered his face. He snapped his mouth shut and saluted her, right fist over his heart and left arm behind his back. “I am Jean Kirstein, a major in the Stohess branch of the Military Police! Please forgive my rudeness, excellency!”

She waved her hand gently. “It’s all right, Major, at ease. I did not realize you were a ranking officer.” She offered Annie her arm, saying, “But perhaps it would be wiser to remember that a woman is not obligated to speak to you, rank or not. It is the mark of a truly polite gentleman to not interrupt someone who is busy.” Once Annie had taken her arm, she tipped her head to Jean. “If you would excuse us, Major Kirstein.”

Standing dumbfounded as his face went a darker shade of red, he quickly stepped aside. As they left, neither Annie nor Mikasa looked back. Armin only did so by turning slightly when he opened the door to the bookstore for them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jean staring after them, still red in the face and looking intensely entranced. He stepped in and closed the door, smiling up at Mikasa.

“Shall we try to find ‘The Sword of the Moon’ for you, milady?” he asked.

“Let’s.” They followed him through a straight path leading to a far corner of the shop away from any workers or windows. While Mikasa started to browse, Armin moved closer to Annie.

“Please tell me if I’m wrong about this,” he murmured, “because I’d love to be wrong. Was he acting like that because he’s attracted to Mikasa?”

Frowning with her brows low, she replied, “Unfortunately, you’re right. He has a preference for women with black hair. He got overly friendly with Mina a while back when she went out to order food. I let Marco go with her from then on, since Marco is always _very_ happy to tell people that he and Mina have been married for years.”

“I don’t really have black hair, though,” Mikasa said. “There’s a good amount of gray.”

“Looks like he wasn’t too concerned with that,” Armin said. He sighed, tapping one foot on the floor. “Given his rank, we’ll have to invite him to that party.”

“Annie, is it at all possible to not invite any military personnel?” Mikasa asked. “I’m disinclined to allow them into our home after all they’ve done to us.”

Annie smirked. “Would that I could. We never allowed the military into royal balls in Liūtas. It was an offense to Löwengöttin to let war mix with peace like that.”

“‘Löwengöttin’?” Armin said. He thought, but soon smiled. “You still practice the faith of Liūtas?”

Annie nodded, but Mikasa froze to the point that her book slipped out of her hand onto the stacks before her. She turned around, eyes wide under lowered brows.

“You were called the reincarnation of the lioness of the sun,” she whispered. “I _remember_. My order called you something like that. ‘Destroy Liūtas’ sun.’” One knee threatened to buckle, but Annie braced her. Confusion twisted her pale face when she steadied. “But—I don’t remember anything else on that order. _Dammit_.”

“I _knew_ it wasn’t perfect!” Armin whispered back, eyes brilliantly bright. “You really do have a chance to regain your memories!”

“That’s wonderful, Armin,” Mikasa muttered, “but I would greatly prefer that these moments didn’t happen in _public_.”

His glee vanished. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just disoriented.”

“We can browse until you’re feeling better,” he said. “I’ll find new books for you, me, and Eren.”

“By all means,” she said, rubbing her forehead. She stepped to one side, breathing slowly while he looked at books. Annie moved closer to her, feigning interest in a book as she spoke.

“Do you think that’s why you had a migraine?” she asked.

She shook her head. “If I remembered anything, it was after you’d put me to bed. The way downstairs was a memory I made right before I escaped.” She sighed. “I _hope_ it doesn’t give me a migraine every time.”

Annie shrugged and simply said, “I’d take care of you.”

Mikasa looked at her, standing with her hair in a loose braid that trailed into the hood of her gray shirt. Even in plain clothing, entirely unadorned, her bearing was nothing less than regal. It caught Mikasa’s breath behind her tongue. She leaned closer to lower her voice further.

“You haven’t lost an ounce of your pride, have you,” she said. “You carry yourself as the highest sort of noble—royalty right next to the goddess you give your faith to. Is that why they called you that?”

She slowly went still, closing the book. “‘Sonne-Löwin.’ My father gave me that nickname when he heard other people were starting to call me a reincarnation of Löwengöttin. I was born the day Liūtas was founded, first daughter to the kaiser. Everyone thought I would be a great leader.” She set the book down. “I’ll never lose that pride.”

Another wild impulse gripped her, but she gave her voice to it. “What if we used this party as a way to announce you as well? To bring you out of hiding and let you reclaim at least your true name and title?”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

She reached down to rest her hand on Annie’s. “Think of it this way. If the man who hired me tries to decry you, he runs the risk of exposing that Liūtas’ turmoil was caused by external forces, not a civil war. Worse yet for him, the notion that you were being pursued by a hired assassin will make people want to search for who paid me. Your reappearance will be a welcome miracle to all of Liūtas and anyone who supported your family. The Sina royals cannot denounce you without looking like they supported the downfall of your mother and father—without looking like they do not want the rightful heiress to come home.”

She grasped Annie’s hand tightly. “You would be safe in the open. Announce me at the same time as your loyal reichsgräfin. The man who hired me could do nothing to tell anyone who I was, and the fact that I escaped Utgard at all to return to serve _you_ should give him cause to fear.”

Annie said nothing, eyes wide and staring at their hands.

“Please,” Mikasa said. “Allow me to help you take back these things at least.” She smiled. “The people of Xenten will be less inclined to cast judgement on the kaiserin of Liūtas.”

“You would expose yourself like that?”

She chuckled. “What good would it do me to use my house in my efforts if I did not proclaim myself?” Her smile weakened with sheepishness. “Although I’m not that eager to join society at your level yet.”

Annie looked up and smiled. “You’ll be fine. If I see you get overwhelmed, I’ll come rescue _you_.”

Mikasa lifted Annie’s hand to kiss the back of it. “You have my gratitude, Leon-Hiyas.”

“‘Leon-Hiyas’? Where is that from?”

She blinked, straightening up. “I…I don’t know.” She struggled, brows low. “I think it’s part of a language I knew when I was very young. It means ‘Lion-Gem.’”

“It—does?” Annie asked, face flushing.

“I thought it was the most appropriate thing to call you,” Mikasa said, cheeks turning red.

Annie looked at her a long while. She cleared her throat and murmured, “Thank you, Schönheit.”

Mikasa smiled and said nothing of the nickname. She turned at approaching footsteps, brows rising at the large stack of books in Armin’s arms.

“These look interesting,” he said in faint protest. “And I found ‘The Sword of the Moon’ for you.”

“I’m not saying ‘no,’” Mikasa said. “I’m saying ‘let me carry a few of those on the way home.’”

“Oh. Okay. Uh. Shall we go home, miladies?”

“We need to go to the tailor’s one more time,” Annie said. “I need to order something.”

“What is it?” Mikasa asked.

“You’ll see,” Annie replied. “Come on.” She led them to the counter, taking the books so Armin could pay. The books were packed equally into paper bags, Mikasa and Armin taking one each. They followed Annie to the tailor, waiting outside when she bade them stop. Mikasa leaned against the window, examining the sky because she could not read a book without putting down the bag.

The sky was bright blue with clouds only in sight out over the sea. Her thoughts drifted to Liūtas beyond the horizon. She did not bother trying to remember what the land of the empire looked like. Nevertheless, she wondered what it would be like to walk down a street there with her arm in Annie’s grasp. Before she could wonder what it would be like to kiss Annie again, she looked to Armin and saw him with his nose in a thick book.

“Are you reading to tease me?” she asked.

“No,” he said innocently, looking up from the book. “I just wanted to start this, so I took the opportunity.”

She smiled. “You’re a ridiculous young man. It’s a good thing I like you and Eren so much.”

He grinned. “That’s true.” He turned when Annie came out of the shop, quickly putting the book away. “Is everything set, milady?”

“It is.” She went to Mikasa and took the bag to free Mikasa’s arm. This done, she took Mikasa’s arm once more and said, “Let’s go home. I want to show you something, and we need to talk to Christa.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Mikasa said. They returned to the manor as the air grew warmer. Reiner stood at attention at the gate that day, and Mikasa paused to speak to him. “Please tell any curious visitors that we will not meet with anyone not coming strictly for business. I have no interest in entertaining guests right now.”

He bowed his head. “Yes, your excellency.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“And tell my sister to come meet us in the courtyard when she comes home,” Annie added. When he smiled and nodded, she echoed Mikasa in saying, “Thank you.” She led them inside only briefly, guiding them down to the courtyard. Armin sat in one of the outdoor chairs immediately, returning to his book.

Annie brought Mikasa to a long lounge chair, looking at it significantly after sitting on its end. Mikasa sat as well, leaning against the angled back of the chair with both legs bent for Annie. Annie rummaged through the bag to find one book, soon passing Mikasa _The Sword of the Moon_.

“I remember reading this when I was seventeen,” Annie said. She smiled, and there was a faint shyness in it. “It made me happy when I saw what you told us. ‘Wait, and hope for all good things.’”

“And now we’ll be able to talk about it,” Mikasa said. “Once I read it again, anyway.”

Annie chuckled and picked a book for herself. “I can keep myself entertained while you read.” She leaned back against Mikasa’s legs, starting to read as Mikasa did the same. The breeze from the sea was softer than the day before; the waves below the cliff were quiet. Sitting there reading with Annie close to her ranked highly in the pleasurable moments Mikasa knew. She contemplated setting the book down to close her eyes for a time, but the tale of a warrior chosen by the moon goddess to avert an apocalypse proved engaging enough to keep her weariness at bay.

Based on the number of pages she’d read through, it was not long at all before Historia, Ymir, and Eren returned. They came down the stairs easily enough, but the deep frowns on Ymir and Eren’s faces did not speak of anything good. The utter fury on Historia’s face and the fact that it was Eren holding her hand made Mikasa get to her feet immediately.

“What happened?” she asked, taking long strides to meet them halfway. “Are all of you all right?” Historia and Ymir would not look at her. Her brows dropped. “Eren, what happened?”

“‘M not fuckin’ repeating it,” he muttered.

“Repeat _what_?”

He shook his head.

“Did you get into a fight with each other?”

He shook his head again, starting to look as furious as Historia.

“One of you needs to tell me why you’re all so upset. I don’t want you unhappy.”

Annie went to Mikasa’s side. She looked at Historia and Ymir carefully before her shoulders fell and her brow furrowed. “It happened again.”

“What did?” Mikasa asked.

Sighing, Annie shook her head. “Ymir, I’m not saying it in front of you. Can you go do something to clear your head that’s out of earshot?”

Ymir spat out, “ _Fine_ ,” before storming away without a glance backward. Historia did not watch her, furious tears starting to well over in her eyes.

Mikasa knelt down on noticing this, touching Historia’s chin. Sniffing, Historia hugged her and hid her face on her shoulder. Mikasa held her, but looked at Annie.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why is everyone this upset?”

“MP officers called Ymir a bâtard,” Eren snarled.

The word’s meaning was, for once, not lost to her. “‘Mongrel’? Why would they call her that?”

“Ymir’s from Úlfurheim,” Historia choked.

“I know, but why—” It clicked into place in her mind, leaving her hollow. “A wolf far from home.”

“Ymir’s had people call her that ever since she moved into the manor to get acquainted before the contract,” Annie said. “It’s what most northerners get called at one point or another, but here they figured that if Johan was letting her stay like a ward, it was only as a favor to some poor mother.”

“And you can’t tell them the truth because her heritage is with bandits,” Mikasa said. She sighed and held Historia close. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that’s how northerners are treated here now.”

“I hate the MP,” Historia hissed. “ _Every time_ they see her! And they know Ymir can’t even talk back!” She hiccuped once and clutched the back of Mikasa’s coat. “I _hate_ them! I can’t even challenge them to a duel for her!”

“Why not?” Mikasa asked.

“Women of noble rank have to be twenty before they can challenge others to honor duels,” Annie said. “And Ymir can’t make a challenge at all.”

Mikasa thought. “Do you need to have a family name in order to be named a noble?”

Armin, having come closer, considered her question. “Well…to be named as the head of a principality like Stohess, I think so.”

“And if I were to name someone as, say…a knight of Stohess? What status would they be afforded?”

“Uh,” Armin said, tapping his chin. “Well, a high enough status to challenge ranking officers within the Sina MP.”

“Are you planning on _knighting_ Ymir?” Annie asked, sounding amused.

“Is that treason against the crown to have a knight for my land?”

“It would be pushing it,” Armin said, voice faint from nerves.

“I see.” She made Historia lean back. “Has Ymir told you about the nobility of Úlfurheim?”

“A little.”

“What is a rank of nobility lower than mine that still affords a person respect and the right to challenge someone who offends them?”

“She said that ‘lendur’ is like a baron or baroness here—it’d match what Johan named me and Annie.”

“That would be perfect. Then I’ll speak to Ymir soon. Now, may Annie and I speak to you? It’s in regard to this party we need to have.”

“Oh. Yes, all right.” She dried her face, and they followed Annie back inside, Mikasa gesturing for Eren and Armin to not follow. To her confusion, Annie led them up to the quarters she had given to Mikasa, and she locked the door behind them.

“Before you took us from the palace,” Annie said, heading to a bookcase built into a wall near the bed, “you saw something in my room that my mother tended to leave there. I loved looking at it, and she let me keep it more often than not because it would be mine anyway.” She began to take books off a low shelf, and she opened a hidden door to retrieve something wrapped carefully in red silk. She handed it to Mikasa to hold while she unwrapped it.

What lay within the silk was a gold crown, tall and thick enough to allow engravings. There were two lionesses, one stretching along each temple. They both looked forward, but while the lioness on the right was roaring, the one on the left only had its left forepaw raised. Sapphires made their eyes, and the sun engraving at the crown’s center front had a ruby for its heart. Mikasa stared, mouth open.

“The kaiserin’s crown,” she said. Smiling weakly, she asked, “I was audacious enough to take you _and_ your crown?”

“And you’ll give it back to me at the party,” Annie said. “Along with my name and title.”

Historia gaped. “You—we’re going to tell everyone now?”

“I am,” Annie said. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready yet.”

She hesitated, her eyes nervous. Quietly, she said, “Not until we know who my father is and why he sent Mikasa to kill us. I want it to crash down on him.” Smiling slightly, she said, “If he learns that Annie’s alive, it could make him panic about _me_ being alive.”

“That’s a fair point,” Mikasa chuckled. “Then you will still be Lady Christa Renz for now.”

Historia’s smile grew larger. “That’s going to be a very exciting night. Wait—Annie, did you finish Mikasa’s peerage title?”

“Oh,” said Annie. “Right. Hang on.” She reached into the open space of the crown, taking a key from the folds of the silk. She went to the writing desk, opening its main drawer at the center of the desk. Twisting her hand, she turned the key in a lock in the underside of the thick tabletop. A hidden slot fell open, and she took a piece of parchment from within.

Mikasa went to her side after she had locked up the slot and closed the drawer. As Annie pulled over a jar of ink and a fountain pen, she looked at the parchment. It looked similar to a will, written to pass on all rights and lands to the sworn heir of the Ackerman house. The script was steady and the lines even. There were two empty spaces in the document for a first name. Annie drew the parchment back before herself.

“Take a scrap of paper from the drawers on the left and get some loose black ashes from the fireplace,” Annie said. “It help the ink look aged.”

Mikasa did as she asked, standing at a cautious distance. She watched Annie get a precise amount of ink on the pen’s nib to write her name. Her hand was unwavering, absolutely certain on each stroke. She finished writing, lifting the parchment to blow very gently on the ink. After a few seconds, she set the parchment down and beckoned Mikasa over.

Carefully, she took the scrap to sprinkle the ash onto the damp ink. When it all was completely dry, she carried the parchment to the fireplace. She held it upside down and flat, tapping the back until the ash fell cleanly off. Turning it back over, she examined it and smiled.

“There,” Annie murmured. “The ink looks as old as the rest of it.”

“You are wonderfully cunning, Leon-Hiyas,” Mikasa said with a sweet smile.

Annie blushed. “I read about it in ‘The Sword of the Moon.’”

“Either way, you’ve put it to practical use. You’re going to be an outstanding kaiserin.”

She smiled, looking Mikasa in the eye. “Thanks.” She jumped when Historia giggled behind them.

“Now that Mikasa is a proper noble,” said Historia, “we should get her started on learning to get through a party. I’ll get my violin to help you teach her how to dance.”

“Wait, dance?” Mikasa asked. “I have to dance as well?”

“Did you think parties would just involve a lot of standing around?” Annie asked. “Sina nobles like to dance.”

“Waltzes?” Mikasa asked with hope.

Annie smirked. “You’d be surprised. But you were like a panther before—you’ll be fine now.” She took Mikasa’s arm, and she led her back to the courtyard while Historia fetched her violin.


	4. Things Said in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction creeps closer, but more time must be spent with the people of Xenten. While Mikasa is at first pleased and relieved that memories come back to her upon meeting people from her past, she keeps being laid low by how fiercely those memories hit her.
> 
> Still, Annie is always there to talk her through the hours she spends in the dark to recover, and she is more than happy to repay the kindness the night before the party.
> 
> And save for one guest who seems to know something more than they let on, the party starts exactly as planned.

The next ten days made Mikasa wonder how the aristocracy could be considered to be perpetually lazy. If she wasn’t being fitted for her clothes, she was being shown the state documents for Stohess. Every afternoon after lunch saw her dancing with either Annie or Armin as Ymir and Historia played for them. If Eren asked politely enough at dinner, she would spar with him one-handed in the large exercise room in the manor.

It all left her so exhausted that, most nights, she fell asleep the moment she lay in bed or sat in her chair with a book. When Historia came to wake her and found her in her chair, she smiled gently and woke Mikasa only long enough to make her get into bed for another hour or so of sleep. When it happened on the tenth night, Annie was the one gently shaking her shoulder to rouse her in the morning.

“Mikasa,” she said.

Had she been any more awake, Mikasa would not have been proud of her incoherent mumble of a reply.

Annie smiled slightly. “Come on, get in bed. You need to stop sleeping in your chair.”

Mikasa exhaled, blinked a few times, and slowly stood up. She went to her bed, climbing into it, but she only bothered to get her head on her pillow before falling asleep on top of the blanket. It happened so quickly that Annie had to catch a laugh in her hand.

“I guess you’re making up for the time you spent awake with us,” Annie murmured. She checked the curtains, drawing one back so a sliver of light fell on the floor furthest from the bed. Though she meant to leave Mikasa in peace, she paused to look at her sleeping face one more time. She brushed Mikasa’s hair away from her face, fingers lingering by the scar on her cheek. She stroked the scar with her thumb, feeling its raised texture.

This made Mikasa stir, and she opened one eye as Annie lifted her hand. Voice rough from sleep, she said, “Leon-Hiyas?”

“What?” Annie asked.

Mikasa blinked slowly, relaxing. “I dreamt you were a ghost. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I could stay,” Annie said, “if it’ll help you sleep better.”

She smiled. “Please.”

Annie undid the braid Historia had made of Mikasa’s hair as her answer. She reached over Mikasa to pull the other half of the blanket on top of her before going to sit in the chair with one of the many books stacked around it. After glancing at Mikasa to make sure she had fallen back asleep, she opened the book to a random point and crossed her legs beneath her. She glanced at the door every so often, anticipating a soft knock. When it came an hour and a half later, she opened the door to see Armin and Historia in the hall, Armin carrying a tray with toast and fruits on it.

“Still asleep?” he asked in a whisper.

“She is, but she needs to get up,” Annie said. “Come in.” She closed the door behind them, holding down a snicker as Historia climbed onto the bed, sat by Mikasa, and took a lock of Mikasa’s hair to tickle her cheek.

“Come on, time to get up,” Historia said. “Your bandages come off today.”

Mikasa opened one eye. “I suppose that will make dancing lessons a little easier.”

“Eren’s eager to spar with you with no handicap,” Armin said, setting the tray on the ottoman.

“I’ve beaten him in every match with my handicap,” Mikasa said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “I feel like he’s a glutton for punishment at this point.” She looked around, but her brows lowered when she saw Historia.

Historia’s smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and looked away. “It’s nothing. Just a strange dream.”

“Was she a ghost, too?” Annie asked.

“I think…it was the last time I saw the two of you back then. Did I tell you to try not to cry?”

“Yes,” Historia replied.

Mikasa sighed, running a curled finger over Historia’s cheek. “I saw you crying just now.”

“Oh.” She smiled again. “That was a memory, though. I’m fine.” She waited until Mikasa smiled before saying, “Let me check your hand before you eat. It’ll be easier without all of that on.” After unwrapping her hand and wrist, she tested Mikasa’s wrist with gentle stretches. Mikasa did not bother to blink while she did this, painless as it was.

“I’ll help you remember how to use a bow and arrow today,” Annie said. “It’ll be a break from dancing.”

“An appreciated one,” Mikasa admitted. “Much though I like my partners.”

“Milady, I think you’re always going to prefer avoiding noble duties,” Armin said.

“Unless Annie is involved,” Historia remarked. She tugged at Mikasa’s hand to make her get out of bed, and she soon after hushed Armin when he stammered a protest against joining them on the floor for breakfast. “No one really cares that much about status here at home. You can join us.”

“You can also call me ‘Mikasa’ in private,” Mikasa said, taking a slice of buttered toast sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. “As can Eren.”

“O-oh. Well, um, okay.” He sat down and took a slice as well. When he caught himself hesitating, he exhaled hard and took a bite.

“Good boy,” Annie said with a wry smile, and she picked up a strawberry to eat. Historia did the same, and they ate their fill of good food. When the tray had emptied, Historia sat toying with the last strawberry. Mikasa saw the pensive look on her face and leaned forward.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I thought of something, but I don’t want to take up your time with Annie today.”

Annie took in the way her eyes remained on the strawberry and said, “It’d be better for her to go with you and give out donations rather than me or Ymir. Just bring her back for the afternoon.”

Historia looked up with a gleeful smile. “You’re wonderful.”

“Donations?” Mikasa asked. “For the poor? It hasn’t seemed like anyone is that poorly off here.” Her lips turned downward. “Or is that just because I’m not _seeing_ them?”

“You’re not seeing them,” Historia replied. “Most of them live a little further down the coast to the south. The profitable work there is for blacksmiths, so they’re not completely destitute. But they get foul looks in town if they _don’t_ work for a blacksmith. Löwengöttin save you if you’re sick, orphaned, or from Úlfurheim.”

“What would we be taking them?” Mikasa asked.

“Good food, especially seasonal things. The strawberries reminded me.”

“But not money?”

“We gave what we could before, but we never had a lot of extra cash on hand to give.”

Mikasa smiled. “Then perhaps we should go downstairs before we leave.”

“Is that wise?” Armin asked.

“If we pass out a few gold and silver coins to people when we give them food, I don’t think it’d cause a stir.”

Armin sighed and smiled. “How on earth were you an assassin when you’re so kind-hearted?”

“It’s not _that_ kind,” Mikasa said. “Some of this is based on imagining people like Miss Dreyse being distressed by customers that she usually would scorn.”

Annie sniggered. “I like your plan. I’m willing to go along, now.”

Historia rolled her eyes, but kissed her and Mikasa on the cheek. “Armin, do you want to come as well?”

“I was…um, hoping I could spend some time in the library if we ever took a break before the party.”

“That’s all right,” Mikasa said. “I don’t think we’ll need to keep up appearances with servants.”

He grinned. “Thank you! I’ll find new books for you as well!”

“You’re too kind to me,” Mikasa said.

He chuckled,and when they headed out he waved at them from the front door. Bertholdt stood at the gate that morning, and his brows rose when he saw Historia leading a horse with a small wagon.

“Miladies, would you like an escort today?” he asked.

“We’ll be fine,” Historia replied. “But thank you.”

He nodded and opened the gate for them. As they headed into Xenten, Mikasa reveled in being able to wear her new coat properly. It was made of softer cloth than her original coat, and it fit better on her with her weight coming back. While it was not her formal coat, there were embroidered patches of crimson tigers on her upper arms, as well as an inside pocket for the pocket-watch Annie had given her. As she took out the watch to wind it a few times, a thought occurred to her.

“Did Ymir not want to come along?” she asked.

“She’s still…erm.”

“Pissed,” Annie said.

“I see. I don’t blame her.” She put the watch away after checking the time. “I’m personally hoping that someone insults her _after_ I name her lendur at the party. It’d be a good thing to see her punch someone.”

“I’m going to tell her you said that,” Historia said. “It’ll cheer her up to imagine who she’ll punch.”

“Good,” Mikasa said with a smile. “You all deserve to be happy.”

“It’s easier now that you’re back,” Annie said, quiet so Historia could not hear. Mikasa heard, and she offered Annie her arm. Annie took it, and they made their purchases of food with merchants smiling indulgently at Historia. Every time this happened, Mikasa though about the chest filled with gold and silver coins.

The road along the coast was well worn, but well kept. The wagon wheels barely rattled over the even ground, and their horse trotted along with no fussing. Half a mile along the road, Mikasa began to smell the scent of forges. She could not hear hammers on hot metal, even when they drew closer. A few children of Úlfurheim descent were milling about in the open square that they walked into, but they looked as though they had just woken up. On hearing the wagon, they turned and grinned.

“Hi, Miss Christa!” one teen girl said, hurrying over. “Did you bring us some fruit today?”

“Fruit and other things,” Historia said. “Has work started for the day?”

“Not yet.” The girl leaned around her, peering at Mikasa. “Miss Christa, who’s she?”

“Her name is Mikasa,” Historia said. “Mikasa Ackerman.”

The girl’s gaze turned faintly suspicious. After a time, she said, “Hello.”

Mikasa tipped her head. “Young lady.”

“I’ll go get everyone,” the girl said. “Hang on.”

As she went off, Mikasa turned to Annie. “I wasn’t quite expecting that kind of reaction.”

“Johan was well liked by the blacksmiths,” Annie said. “He never left Xenten for his own weapons, and anyone who wanted a weapon like his was sent here for business. They’ll probably be a little more resistant to seeing you as the heir to his house.”

“It’ll be all right,” Mikasa said. She glanced toward where the girl had gone, but stopped short on seeing a sign hanging outside the shop she’d entered. It was a square wooden placard adorned with painted roses. Her mouth went dry because she knew it immediately, and her eyes widened when she looked at the surrounding shops and recognized all of their placards as well.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. She took a step back in the direction of the road. “I shouldn’t be here. This was a bad idea.”

“What?” Annie said. “Why?”

“I’ve _been here_.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. I think people saw me then—spoke to me.” She grimaced. “I need to leave before people see me.”

Annie caught her arm before she could move further back. “We’d need to figure out a story either way. Let’s see what they even know.”

Mikasa’s grimace deepened for a moment, but she exhaled, nodded, and put a pleasant expression back on her face. She waited, and soon enough the girl came back out of the shop with a frown on her face.

“I don’t see how you can get into the drink this early!” she called back over her shoulder. “And I think it’s rude for you to be all red-faced when Miss Christa comes!”

“Aw, c’mon, I’m not getting drunk!” a man said, leaving the shop and stretching. “It’s getting me on my toes for the morning!”

Mikasa could not stop herself from staring. The man was taller than her, lanky of limb and scruffy with a thin layer of stubble alongside a mustache. His short hair was more blond than gray, and his hands and work-apron were as dirty as she always knew them.

“Mister Hannes?” she said.

He turned, brows up. He looked at her, squinted, and then took a breath for surprise. Grinning, he laughed. “I will be _damned_! I was hoping Johanna wasn’t pulling a fast one on me!” As he came near, offering a hand, he asked, “So how’ve you been, Mikasa? Or do I have to call you ‘milady’ and all that?”

There was no need to force a smile when she took his hand and shook. “You don’t have to stand on ceremony, Mister Hannes. I’m glad to see you still live so close.”

“You know each other?” Annie asked.

Hannes barked a laugh. “Lady Renz, you’re standing next to Johan’s beloved daughter! She was gone when you and your sister arrived, but there’s not a blacksmith in or near Xenten that doesn’t know her! God knows how exacting her pop was about her training weapons, may his soul rest well. Still got your callouses, right?”

“Until my final days.”

He grinned toothily and patted her on both shoulders. “Attagirl.” He looked at her hair. “Hey, you’re younger than me! Where do you get off looking so dignified so early in life?”

“Living through difficulties,” she replied simply.

He laughed and patted her shoulders again. “Well, it’s back to the good life for you. Good home, good people in it. Miss Christa’s a little doll, she is, and Lady Renz is a damn fierce woman. Best people to have looked after your pop in the end.”

“I’m glad,” Mikasa said, smiling at Annie.

Hannes saw this, saw the way Annie smiled back, and said nothing as he nodded sagely. When Mikasa looked at him again, he said, “Hey, so I’ll go get everyone organized for the food, but I’m not saying ‘no’ if you’d like to stop by my shop before you head home.”

“Of course,” Mikasa said. “I’d be happy to catch up.”

He waved briefly as he headed off, and Mikasa stared after him for a time purely out of shock. She turned to Annie as Historia came to them.

“Did Johan ever refer to me as his daughter?” she whispered.

“No,” Historia replied, brows low. “He never told us who you were other than saying you were someone important to him.”

“Did he not have children of his own?”

“He never married,” Annie said. “And it’s not like he’d tell _us_ if he had a lover or a child out of wedlock.”

Mikasa sighed, putting a hand over one eye and pressing down. “How can I remember this place and these people but not why I was here? Or _when_ , even?”

“It’ll come,” Annie said. “Don’t worry.”

“Just concentrate on being kind,” Historia said. “I’m sure everyone has missed you, just based on Hannes’s reaction.”

Mikasa nodded, rubbing the back of her neck. She helped Historia uncover the food in the wagon, managing to get the chest of money into their easy reach before a woman called for her. She turned to see a young woman with red hair tied into a ponytail hurrying to her, closely followed by a bear-sized young man with short brown hair. The woman hugged her with a gleeful giggle.

“It _is_ you!” the woman said. “We thought Hannes had too much to drink already! My God, welcome home after twenty years!”

Somehow, she managed to not focus on what she’d said of time, instead hugging the woman in turn. “Hannah, I thought you and Franz would’ve left here by now.”

“Xenten is home, milady,” Franz replied. “And we’ve got our own shop now, so it’s gotten pretty good for us since you were home last.”

“A shop already? But you’re not that much older than Annie. Or am I remembering wrong?”

Hannah laughed as she let go. “You’re correct, but your father always liked us and Hannes, so he helped us at the end, bless him.” She curtseyed to Annie and Historia. “Miladies, it’s an honor to have you here again. Are you all doing well at the manor?”

“Really well now that Mikasa’s home,” said Historia.

“I’ll bet so,” Franz remarked. “An Ackerman should always live there.” He looked toward Xenten’s center with a frown. “Figures no one would mention that you’ve come home.”

“I’ve been surprising most people,” Mikasa said.

Hannes, walking up with a large number of people, heard her and said, “What did you expect? You didn’t like being around people that much, so your pop let you stay out of sight in the main part of town. I’m sure they think you’re a ghost or something.”

Annie raised a brow at her. “You had an interesting life before we met.”

“I feel that’s a safe assumption,” Mikasa said. “But let’s start passing things out.”

Historia nodded and looked to the people gathering around them. “Mothers and families with children first like usual, please! We’ve brought extra today!” As they lined up, she had Annie climb into the cart to hand food to her. She made Mikasa step to one side in reach of the chest, stationing herself at the other side of the wagon to pass out the food.

The first two people in the line were a young mother and her son, both of Úlfurheim descent. The boy was small and shy, clinging to his mother’s work-apron. Historia gave her bread, meat, and a good deal of fresh fruit, and handed the boy a large roll for himself. Though they went to leave entirely, Mikasa cleared her throat to get their attention.

“I have something for you as well,” she said. “If you could step over here?” As the pair did so, she flicked open the clasps on the chest. “Is there anything you and your son have been needing? New clothes or furnishings, perhaps?”

“Well,” the woman said, hesitating, “clothes and shoes, mostly, milady. He should have a better blanket, but…” She smiled faintly and without pleasure.

“I see.” She turned back to the chest, hiding her hands while she silently palmed three gold coins and fifteen silver. She turned around. “Could you hold out your hand, miss?”

The woman looked at her nervously before putting the handle of her basket in her left hand and holding out her right. She blinked when Mikasa set the coins in her hand, hearing the clinking but unable to see until Mikasa too her hands away. The sight of gold in her palm made the woman’s jaw drop.

“M-milady?” she said.

“Yes?”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I’m sorry. Are the merchants charging more than that for what you need?”

The woman blanched. “But—milady, I can’t take this.”

“I don’t see why not. Unless you’re worried about people accepting gold from you?”

“N-no, it’s just…this is a lot of money.”

Mikasa smiled and made the woman close her hand around the coins. “Money is something I have a lot of. I want you to take it for yourself and your son. The both of you deserve good things, and I would not see a lovely young woman distressed about how to give her child good things. Please, take it.”

The woman blushed darkly, nodded, and said, “Thank you, your excellency.” She slipped the coins into her basket and went off with a disbelieving smile and her son’s hand in hers. As more people, families and individuals alike, came up for their food, the word got out about what Mikasa was giving away. Startled whispers went up the line, and a few children had to be pulled away from going through the line for more. Hannes was the last in line, and he gaped unabashedly when she pressed the last two gold and twenty silver coins into his palm.

“But,” he said, “Johan never had this much to give in one day.”

“The spoils of my youth,” Mikasa said. “Would you be disinclined to have us as visitors now?”

“Oh!” he said, and he tucked the money into his pocket. “Yeah, that’s just fine! C’mon, we can hitch the horse behind the shop.” He took the reins when Historia offered them, leading them away to his shop. They went inside while he tied up the horse, and Mikasa walked about slowly.

Everything brought back a memory she hadn’t known she’d lost. The workbook on the counter reminded her of Hannes showing how he entered orders in it, and the boxes of iron places made her think of watching apprentices work them. Even the bottle of whiskey Hannes had left uncorked on the service counter was familiar. The memory it gave her, however, made her freeze up.

She had been in the shop when she was much younger and much smaller. A tall, broad man in a long red coat had been on her left side, and he kept his right hand on her head as he spoke to Hannes. It had been the dead of night, but none of them seemed tired. The man’s voice was muffled and indistinct in timbre. All Hannes had said was, “This’ll be a test one for her, right? Let me measure her, but it shouldn’t be more than a week, your excellency.”

“Mikasa?” said Annie.

She startled. They all looked at her with concern, and Hannes said, “Would you like a nip for your nerves? You’re pretty pale right now.”

“I,” she said, feeling the cold sweat that had gathered along her spine, “I’m all right. I’m sorry.”

Hannes’s look of concern only intensified. “Here, I’ve got a clean glass in the back. Have a seat on a crate—I’m sorry to not have a chair in here for you.”

Annie followed her to the crate Mikasa sank down on, leaning to whisper to her. “Remembering something?”

“Yes,” Mikasa rasped, throat closing up. “When I was a child. I—feel _ill_.”

Historia saw her pallor and hurried over. “Hang on, okay? We can leave.”

“I need to stay,” Mikasa said. “I have to talk to him about what I saw.” She looked up as Hannes returned, taking the small glass of whiskey he offered despite her shaking hands. “Thank you, Mister Hannes.”

“Not a problem,” he sad. “Do you know what brought that on?”

She took a sip, the bite of the alcohol steadying her hands slightly. “I’ve been ill, and…I took a blow to the head on the road. Recovering my memories has been difficult, to say the least.”

He patted her shoulder. “Take a breather as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He nodded and, after a moment, quietly asked, “Can I ask what you remembered?”

“Was…there ever a time my father and I came to your shop in the middle of the night? Perhaps to request something?”

Hannes went still, face starting to twist in discomfort. He looked at Annie and Historia.

“They can hear this,” Mikasa said. “Please. I have to know.”

He exhaled slowly. “You…did. To request a real sword for a little ten-year-old girl.” He looked away. “He said you needed to get used to drawing blood. I wasn’t happy, but…Johan wasn’t a man to say ‘no’ to.”

She knew why the notion did not make her flinch like it did Annie and Historia. “I see. No wonder it made me react like that.”

Hannes smiled uncertainly. “I’d be happier to make a sword for you know that you’re an adult. A live one, of course. Can’t use the Ackerman sword in a fight.”

Once more, her smile was honest. “I would like that. Your swords have always been impeccable.”

“Great!” he said. “I’ll get your reach measured and let you go home to rest.”

“Thank you,” she said. She followed his directions without hesitation, letting him check her arms and what her preferred spot to wear her fighting sword, which she discovered was on her back. His suggestion of a single-edged sword was agreed to, and he promised to deliver it in ten days. He let them leave after patting her on the shoulders once more. Once they had left the small village, Historia made Mikasa stop.

“Get into the wagon,” she said, voice firm. “You’re shaking horribly.” When Mikasa opened her mouth, Historia shook her head with a frown. “No arguing. I don’t want you passing out on the way back and us having to leave you because we can’t get you in the wagon on our own. Get in now.”

Mikasa closed her mouth. She turned and got into the wagon, leaning against one side and putting her head on her pulled up legs. They were silent on the way back, Mikasa feeling her stomach churn and sweat building on her body all the while. Her vision flickered in and out of a memory until she was lost in the sight and sensation of riding on a horse at night as a child. Someone sat behind her in the saddle, and she stared at the ring worn on the person’s right hand. The fingers were thick as a man’s often were, covered in scars and callouses. The ring on the middle finger was a broad gold band bearing a ruby cut in the shape of a four-pointed star.

When the horse stopped, her gaze was fully taken up by the darkness of night. She could not see in the darkness, but her legs straightened automatically because she felt strong hands under her arms. She turned, even as she hyperventilated, and tried to get down. As she dropped, she felt her plummet into the sea from Utgard. Her legs buckled when she hit the ground, and the whiskey came back up from her stomach when she fell forward onto her hands. She tipped to one side, and she passed out before she hit the ground.

————

A cool wet towel was on her forehead. She mumbled, “Is anyone there?”

“I’m here,” Annie said.

“What the hell happened to me?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “You didn’t hear us at all when we told you not to stand up. You looked like you were panicking over something we couldn’t see.”

She opened her eyes slowly. They were in her quarters, dark with the curtains drawn, but she could see everything, including Annie sitting on the bed with her. “How did I get here? Did you carry me upstairs?”

“Ymir was there to welcome us home. She carried you—she was just as startled as the rest of us when you passed out.”

“I’m sorry for worrying everyone,” Mikasa said.

“Don’t be stupid,” Annie said, stroking her cheek tenderly. “You’re fine. We just want you better.”

Mikasa turned to look at her properly. There was the strain of worry lingering in her face, but her hand was steady on her cheek. She reached up to take Annie’s hand, smiling. “Thank you for always taking care of me.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked as though she would protest. She looked down, then up. “You’re…welcome.” She rubbed Mikasa’s fingers slowly with her thumb. The worry left her bit by bit, and when it was gone, she set her free hand on Mikasa’s other cheek. She stroked at the scar. She swallowed, and then leaned down. She kissed Mikasa very lightly and very briefly, but more sweetly than Mikasa had ever known. When she pulled away, worry did not come back to her face.

Mikasa’s mouth went dry. Somehow frightened, she asked, “Do you know what you’re doing now?”

“Doing what I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” Annie replied. “I think I’m allowed to after thinking about it since you came home.”

“Oh.” She let herself smile, nervous as her voice. “I suppose you had time to clean off my lips before you kissed me.”

“I did, but you need to wash your mouth or eat something if you want a better kiss than that.”

Her smile twitched and faded. She looked away. “Annie…I don’t want to say this—”

“Then _don’t_.”

“—but is this… _right_? For someone like me to be with the kaiserin?”

Annie’s smile had vanished already, but she frowned. “You mean an assassin.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t fucking _care_.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said,” Annie replied. “I don’t care that you were an assassin. I want to be with you because you’re the same soft-hearted woman who I’ve thought about for the last several years.” In a whisper, she added, “Please.”

Her mind fumbled for the right words. She squeezed Annie’s hand and asked, “Can I tell you what I thought when we met again? What I felt?”

Annie nodded, looking hopeful.

“I felt I had never seen a woman like you in all my life, memories or no. You were so elegant and beautiful that day…I didn’t know what to do except try to hear you speak again.”

She smiled. “Do you still think that?”

“I do,” she murmured. “I would like to be with you…as your lover. If that’s all right.”

“It is,” Annie said. She gave Mikasa another light kiss. “Don’t worry.”

Mikasa smiled back, but her voice was curious when she said, “‘Several years’?”

Annie blushed dark red. “Well. Yes.”

When Annie said no more, Mikasa pushed herself upright carefully, settling against the headboard with the towel in one hand. Her stomach did not roil, and she blinked when Annie took the towel and dropped it into a wooden basin on the floor. The longer Annie’s silence continued, the harder Mikasa’s heart pounded. She cleared her throat quietly.

“May I ask how long?”

Annie’s mouth twitched. “Six years.”

She did not gape. She held out a hand. “Come here.” Her hand was steady, even when Annie hesitated. She curled her fingers to beckon her closer, and gingerly put her arm around Annie’s shoulders when Annie sat against her side.

“That long?” she asked.

“I’ve thought about other women,” Annie mumbled. “Like the kind of women I saw in Liūtas. Even here in Sina. But I kept going back to you. You felt better.”

She smiled and stroked Annie’s head. “Even though you hadn’t seen me in so long?”

“Weren’t you wondering how both of us recognized you so quickly? You look almost exactly the same as you did twelve years ago.” She leaned against Mikasa more heavily. “You really do look dignified.”

“The better to match the dignity of the kaiserin,” Mikasa said. “I would like to go back to Liūtas with you. To walk down a street with you while holding your hand.” She took a deep breath and looked at the curtained windows. “Would it be nice? The weather and the roads?”

“It would be. Summer in Liūtas was always nice.” She went to take Mikasa’s hand, but Mikasa moved suddenly and slowly. Mikasa put her hands down on either side of Annie’s shoulders on the headboard. Annie blushed again, but did not grow tense. Nothing in Mikasa’s posture or gaze made her fear being trapped. She remained relaxed, even as Mikasa leaned closer.

Mikasa brushed her lips against Annie’s cheeks. She stayed close, looking at Annie’s eyes. They were so remarkably blue despite the darkness, and their lashes were a rich blonde. She could feel Annie’s exhales on her lips. She moved closer once more, kissing Annie on the lips. Before she could deepen it, Annie pushed her back with a finger on her chest.

“You haven’t cleaned your mouth,” Annie said, and while her voice was steady, her blush was intense.

“Y-yes, forgive me.”

Annie smiled and sighed faintly. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to taste vomited whiskey.” She tipped forward, meaning to kiss her once more. The back of Mikasa’s neck twitched and made her want to turn around, but she paid it no heed. She moved to close the gap between them.

“Holy fuckin’ hellfire,” said Ymir, “Historia owes me three gold.”

Annie jerked away and hid her crimson face in her hands. “Löwengöttin take your fucking heart, Ymir.”

Mikasa turned about, watching Ymir kick the door closed behind her before carrying a tray with a plate full of toast and a pot of steaming tea. She grinned at the both of them.

“Annie, you little asshole!” Ymir said cheerfully. “You told me to piss off every time I teased you about her for half a decade, and now you’re kissing her the first chance you get!”

“Do me a favor and just shut up,” Annie grumbled.

“I’m _happy_ for you!” Ymir protested. “I’m seriously not teasing. I’m glad you finally got what you wanted and you’re happy, all right?” She offered the tray to Mikasa. “Here. Marco made some ginger tea to make your stomach knock it off.”

Mikasa sat back to take the tray and set it in her lap. She let the steam from the teapot waft into her face for a time before pouring out a mugful to drink. She sipped at it, feeling her stomach relax minutely.

“Thank you,” she said. “But I must admit I’m surprised that you’re the one to bring this.”

Ymir plucked a piece of toast before going to sit in the armchair. “I’m the only free person. Eren lost his mind when I carried you inside, which made Armin lose _his_ mind when Eren got him. Historia is making them help her look for anything in the library that could help you get your memories back without making you sick.”

“As long as it’s not in public and it’s not this bad every time, I don’t mind,” Mikasa said, taking a bite of toast.

“The rest of us do,” Annie said. “I thought _you_ had lost your mind with the way you acted at the end.”

“You can’t get laid out for so long,” Ymir said. “Johan was never sick until the last few years of his life—it’s be weird if you’re sick all the time.”

“Give me time,” Mikasa said. “It’ll be fine.” She sighed and tapped her thumb against the mug. “The invitations for the party went out yesterday, correct?”

“They did,” Annie said. “We couldn’t make it that small, given what we want to say.”

“Remind me who’s invited, please.”

Ymir began to list them, ticking them off with her fingers as she spoke. “A few of the more highly ranked officers of the MP here, the leader of Xenten’s council, the bishop of Stohess, a lot of the well-to-do in Stohess within twenty miles, a few vidames loyal to the Ackerman house, and an expatriate from Pardus who was chummy with Johan.”

Her brow rose. “Someone from Pardus?”

“Yeah, from a house of fighters like the Ackerman house.”

“She gave up her family name to retire here in peace,” Annie said. “She won’t tell us what it was, but she’s got a coat with a black dragon on it. Did you want to meet her and see if she reminds you of anything?”

“A bit. I just hope I don’t recognize her and have another episode.”

“I’ll take you away if I see it happening,” Annie said. She shrugged. “Maybe we’ll find a way to keep it from happening over the next two weeks.”

“As long as it doesn’t happen when the smuggler envoy comes in a few days,” Mikasa said. She paused in taking a drink when Annie lay a hand on her thigh. Annie did not speak, but her hand was steadying. Mikasa smiled as the knot in her stomach began to untie itself.

————

The day before the envoy was scheduled to arrive, Mikasa realized that she had committed a grave sin of omission. She stopped short in the middle of a waltz with Annie, brows rising slowly.

“Did either of you know anyone from the military in Liūtas?” she asked, looking at Historia as she stopped playing.

“Annie knew who they were more than I did,” Historia said. “Why do you ask?”

“The smugglers I’m becoming a patron of are smuggling military hardware to a commander of Liūtas,” she said. “They called him Commander Erwin.”

Annie’s hands twitched. Faintly, she asked, “Erwin’s still alive?”

“He’s working against the people who usurped your parents.”

“Is,” Annie began, and then swallowed hard. “Who else is on that ship?”

“The captain is a man named Levi,” Mikasa said. “Is he familiar?”

“No, but he might not have been an officer when I was in the palace.”

“All right. What about Petra Ral?”

“I know Petra!” Historia said, smiling broadly. “She was Commander Erwin’s intermediary between him and the kaiser! If anyone could get out of the palace in a siege, it’d be her.”

“Who else?” Annie asked.

“There was a person named Hanji Zoe as well.”

Annie’s mouth fell open. She sputtered laughter. “Of course they’d be alive and with Petra.” She rubbed her forehead. “Other people made it out. You’re going to fund my countrymen taking back our home.” She laughed again, even quieter. “And some of them might be here tomorrow.” She put her head against Mikasa’s chest, holding Mikasa’s shirt loosely.

“Did you want to meet them with me?” Mikasa asked, setting her hands on Annie’s back. “I’m sure they’d be happy to see both alive and well.”

“What if they don’t recognize us?” Annie asked.

“Annie, Hanji won’t have forgotten _you_ ,” Historia said. “They tutored you—only Mother and I spent more time with you. Don’t worry.”

She sighed, tightened her grip, and nodded. She hid her anxiety well for the rest of the day, but when the morning came there was exhausted tension in her shoulders speaking of a poor night of sleep. Mikasa turned cool gazes at Ymir and Eren both when they looked too curiously at Annie, and they went back to their own food. After breakfast, Mikasa had Annie and Historia join her in fetching a chest of treasure to present to the envoy.

“It’s all right if you don’t want to meet them now,” Mikasa said, closing the entrance to the stone stairs. “It’s making you distressed.”

“I’ll be fine,” Annie said. “I’m just worried they’ll think I’m a fake. We disappeared with no trace.”

Historia gently poked her side. “You’re Sonne-Löwin. They’ll know you. I’ll braid your hair like Mother did so they’ll know sooner.”

Annie smirked. “Then we should get rosin or paint all over your dress so they can recognize _you_ sooner.”

“That was usually your fault anyway,” Historia replied, and she took Annie’s hand. Mikasa followed behind them, carrying the chest with a smile on her face. After placing the chest in the parlor, they headed upstairs to dress for company. Mikasa finished first, heading back downstairs in a long burgundy skirt, a white shirt without buttons, and her scarf firmly in place. As she descended the stairs into the foyer, Bertholdt stepped inside trailed by two people. He saw her and bowed his head.

“Allow me to present your guests, your excellency,” he said loudly enough to reach up the stairs. “Petra Ral, navigator of the Survey, and Hanji Zoe, first mate of the same.”

“Hello again, excellency!” Hanji called to her, waving both hands. “You look much better than last we met!”

Mikasa smiled and stepped off the stairs. “I’ve been in very good care for this last month.”

Petra smiled and patted Bertholdt’s arm. “Your staff is very gracious, your excellency. I’m not surprised.”

“No, not just them,” Mikasa said. “I would like for you to meet who stayed with my father in my absence.” She turned to the stairs and loudly said, “Miladies, our guests have arrived. I do believe you’ll want to meet them.”

Petra hid a chuckle in her hand. “Your excellency, you came home to a family! What a relief!”

“Very much so. They’re very sweet young women. The epitome of nobility.”

Hanji laughed. “I’m not surprised at all. Living in a house like this would help anyone be more noble. What I wouldn’t give to have a look through your library before we go.”

“Well,” said Historia, “it’s not as good as the library back home, but it’s very good.”

Hanji and Petra looked up. Historia and Annie had come down the stairs silently and stood at the railing of the landing above them. When all their gazes met, no one spoke. Petra stared with a growing shock that made her go pale, and Historia blushed at the sight. Annie gripped the railing so tight that her knuckles bleached, swallowing hard. Hanji’s mouth worked on words that never came to fruition. With halting steps, they made their way to the stairs. Before they reached them, they broke into a run, pushing Mikasa bodily aside.

They took the stairs two at a time, pushing their glasses up on top of their head as they went. The minute Annie was in reach, Hanji took her face in hand and peered closely at her.

“It’s not possible,” Hanji whispered. They smiled suddenly, letting out a sob as tears came to their eyes. “But it _is_. The same facial features as your mother and father, just as I always thought they would be by now.” They laughed once before pulling Annie into a hug. “Sonne-Löwin, blessed by the sun. It’s really you.”

Annie returned the hug, hiding her face against Hanji’s chest. “I’m glad to see you, Hanji.”

Petra and Mikasa joined them on the landing, and Petra put her hands over her mouth as she approached Historia. She lowered them to reveal a tentative smile. “Historia? You escaped, too?”

Historia could not find words, and so she nodded. She let Petra catch her in a hug, smiling so much it stung. She managed to say, “Hi Petra,” before words failed again.

“I don’t understand,” Hanji said, holding Annie close. “How did you escape? You were already gone when Petra and I tried to find you to get out of the palace.”

“Turn around,” Annie said.

Hanji did so, and they stared blankly at Mikasa. They turned back to Annie. “What does she have to do with it?”

“I took them from Liūtas and brought them here to be safe,” Mikasa said.

“ _You_ did?” Petra asked. “But why were you in Liūtas then? We were never told an Ackerman was in the country.”

Mikasa looked at Annie and Historia, who looked back nervously. She smiled slightly, looked down, and looked up as she inhaled. “I wasn’t in Liūtas as an Ackerman.”

Petra turned completely, stepping in front of Historia. Her hand moved toward the knife on her belt. As Hanji did the same before Annie, Petra asked, “Who were you, then?”

Mikasa slowly lifted her hands, palms outward in surrender. “I was there as an assassin, and my order to kill Annie and Historia came from the Reiss house of Sina.”

They put their hands around the hilts of their knives, beginning to draw them.

“I did not bring them here as hostages,” Mikasa said. “They are free to leave if they want. I only want revenge on the Reiss house, and that means putting Annie back into power and instating Historia as the head of the Reiss house.”

Hanji lowered their brows and put their knife away. “Then you were in Utgard for betraying your order.”

“Correct,” Mikasa said. “Had I known any of this on escaping Utgard, I would have told you when you rescued me.” She bowed at the waist, hands at her sides. “If I could continue to have your help in exchange for my wealth, I would be grateful.”

Petra and Hanji shared a glance. They looked at Annie.

“She’s sincere,” Annie said. “She refused to kill us, and she still came back to us after her memories were destroyed. I want you to help us and keep her identity secret from everyone but Erwin when the time comes.”

It took a few moments more, but Petra put her knife away. “If that’s what you wish, your highness.” She sighed, frowning as she looked at Mikasa. “I can’t believe that we owe our thanks to an assassin.”

Mikasa straightened up and smiled again. “You can think of me as a vessel for Banal na Ganti, as that’s far more accurate.”

The others stared at her blankly. Hanji asked, “You’re what?”

She hesitated. “A…a vessel for Banal na Ganti. The spirit of divine vengeance. How could I _not_ be?”

“I don’t understand,” said Petra.

“Think of where I was versus where I am now. I was less than dust. Nameless, imprisoned, and with no memories to comfort me. With one ‘chance’ meeting in Utgard, I was given the power, rank, wealth, and connections to strike back at those who imprisoned me. This is nothing less the hand of heaven.”

Hanji put a hand on their chin, grinning toothily as their eyes grew bright. “And here I thought I might’ve known where you came from.”

“This is unfamiliar to you?” Mikasa asked.

“Completely,” Hanji said. “You look like you come from Pardus, but I know of no such deity in their faith. I don’t know _anywhere_ that has a deity by that name. You are _fascinating_ , your excellency.”

Annie and Historia caught the flicker of disappointment that crossed Mikasa’s face, and Historia reached out to touch Hanji’s elbow.

“Can you help us figure out who she might have been?” she asked. “Even just a clue.”

Hanji turned and smiled at her. “Of course! Levi’s got some pretty scummy associates here and in Liūtas, so they might have info about assassination work.” They looked at Mikasa. “Anywhere we should start?”

She shook her head. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

“That’s fine,” Hanji said. “We’ll find something, and Erwin and I will come back to talk to all of you soon. He’ll be happy to see you, Sonne-Löwin.”

Annie smiled. “When he comes, he won’t have to hide who he’s hear for. We’re announcing it at Mikasa’s introductory party.”

Hanji’s jaw dropped. They took both of Petra’s hands. “Can we _please_ stay? I want to see the faces of all the Sina nobles who thought she was dead! _Please_ , Petra? It would be so fun!”

Petra hesitated, and then thought. She said nothing.

“Where is the Survey docked?” Mikasa asked. “In Xenten’s port?”

“Well…yes, but the captain wanted to leave as soon as possible.”

“I’m quite willing to provide lodgings to any of the crew who would like to sleep in a bed,” Mikasa said, “and money to anyone else for food. The party is less than two weeks away, so it wouldn’t be too long on land.”

“Oh!” Historia said. “Hanji, you could talk to Ymir! She runs the bandit network in Stohess, so if you wanted information about where to get weapons to smuggle, we could help you get it!”

“You can stay,” Annie said. “It’ll be fine.”

Petra took one last look at Hanji’s pleading gaze before sighing and smiling wearily. “All right. Let’s take our payment and go talk to the rest of the crew.”

Hanji gave her a quick kiss. “You are so wonderful.”

————

The crew members that came to stay in the manor were all too eager to help get ready for the party. The courtyard overlooking the sea was cleaned thoroughly enough to look as though the stone tiles on the ground were freshly laid. White latticed wood was set up strategically around a tall central pole, and tea-lights were string in a net overhead and all through the latticed wood.

Sasha Braus came off the ship as well, dragging along her assistant Connie Springer, and they added in traditional recipes from Liūtas to Mina and Marco’s Sina dishes. Those crew members not helping in the kitchen volunteered as servers for the night, and all were hastily fitted in clothing to look the part.

With each day that passed, anxiety faded more and more through the manor. The Survey’s crew gossiped with the manor staff about how Annie would be received, and when Ymir joined the conversation they laughed about how her naming as a noble would go over. When news arrived that invitees had checked into Xenten’s inn, the fervor increased.

In the final days before the party, Mikasa rehearsed with Annie, Historia, Ymir, Hanji, and Petra to make every word, gesture, and movement precise. Everything was timed out, set to begin when the sun set and the tea-lights were turned on. On the last night, Mikasa stayed awake past the sunset to watch the stars come out, standing on her balcony. She stood at the railing, looking into the sky while a breeze blew past her.

“Mikasa?”

She turned. Annie stood on her own balcony, dressed in sleeping clothes with her hair down. Mikasa opened her mouth to speak, considered the time and the distance between them, and simply got up onto the railing to leap to the next balcony. She reached Annie in seconds, rearranging her scarf as she smiled.

“Have your nerves caught up with you?” she asked.

“Not as much as I’d worried about,” Annie said, “but yes.” She moved to stand at the railing, glancing back at her before looking at the sea. “I’m glad you’re going to be here.”

Her feet, for the first time, grew light. She went to stand behind Annie. She wrapped her arms around Annie, pulling her closer to feel her warmth. “As am I.”

Annie stiffened for a moment before putting her hands on Mikasa’s arms. She said, “This is better than I thought it would be.”

“What is?”

“You holding me. It’s relaxing.” She tightened her grip. “You know someone’s probably going to try and kill me after we announce who I am, right?”

“I’ll kill them first. I’m never going to let you come to harm, Annie.”

Annie nodded, but said nothing for a long while. When she did, it was halting and quiet. “Could you—stay with me? For tonight?”

Mikasa felt heat fill her face and ears as a reoccurring thought of Annie, eyes closed and head tilted back as she kissed her neck over and over, filled her mind. “Um.”

“No, not—not for that. Just to sleep.”

She relaxed and pushed the thought away. “I don’t see why not.” She smiled. “You’ll have to deal with someone teasing you if they find us in bed together.”

“I’m fine with that.” She made Mikasa open her arms, taking one of her hands and leading her into her room. It was not as large or austere as the room Mikasa lived in, but it was inviting enough that she did not notice. She followed Annie to bed, drawing back the covers when Annie looked at her. Annie crooked a finger, and she leaned down to let her unwind the scarf from around her neck.

Without straightening up, she watched Annie drape the scarf over the bed’s baseboard. Annie turned back, and she took Annie’s face in her hands to kiss her. She heard Annie inhale quickly, felt her hands come up to hold her wrists. She pulled away slowly to see the blush rise in Annie’s cheeks.

“How the hell can you be _this_ confident when you get embarrassed if I kiss you in front of anyone?” Annie mumbled.

“Because I know I can be when I want to be,” Mikasa said. She kissed Annie’s cheek. “Though I’m not sure how confident I’ll be when we do more than this, my daydreams be damned.”

“Daydreams?”

She blushed crimson. “Let’s go to sleep. Tomorrow will be busy, to say the least.” She got into bed hastily, putting herself between Annie and the door.

Annie climbed in after her, but moved close to look Mikasa in the eye. “How much do you think about that?”

“Possibly more than I should be, given how I’ve only come home very recently. I’d prefer to not rush this.”

Annie nodded, looking down. She leaned in to kiss Mikasa, lingering until Mikasa caught her lower lip between hers and sucked gently. After drawing away, she kissed Mikasa’s cheek. “Thank you for not doing that.” Once Mikasa had pulled the covers over them, she tugged her arm over her. Mikasa held her close and Annie relaxed.

“Good night, Mikasa,” she murmured.

Mikasa kissed her head. “Sleep well, Annie.”

They drifted off soon after, spending the night without dreaming. When the sun rose, they did not wake. It took a loud series of knocks for Mikasa to open her eyes. Annie had buried her face in Mikasa’s chest, and she groaned when more knocks sounded.

“Annie!” Historia called through the door. “Come on, help me wake Mikasa for breakfast! We need to get ready!”

Annie hid her snort of laughter in Mikasa’s chest. She lifted her head and whispered, “Sneak back to your room. I’ll stall her.”

Mikasa kissed her quickly before slipping out from beneath the covers and making an escape across the balconies. Knowing that she was smiling, she readied herself for the morning, checking over her clothes for the evening as well. When her door was knocked on and Historia called through it, she believed she was ready. When she opened the door to find Annie trying to hide her blush behind Historia, she realized she had forgotten to take her scarf with her. Historia grinned, holding her scarf, and Mikasa wanted to close the door again.

“Don’t worry,” Historia said quietly, handing her the scarf. “Annie explained. Even if you _had_ done anything, I wouldn’t tell. Let’s go have breakfast.”

She tried to keep from looking guilty as she put her scarf on, and she and Annie followed behind Historia as they headed downstairs. Annie held her hand as they went, and it made it all worthwhile.

The early morning was required to prepare for guests arriving all through the afternoon. Finger foods and drinks were placed on tables within the foyer, resting on platters set atop trays of salted ice water. Similar tables would be placed in the courtyard later in the day, and more lights, proper tables, and chairs were arranged by the sea for dinner later. They over-prepared for the twenty-seven people that had RSVPed for caution’s sake, making enough for fifty.

Twenty minutes before anyone was due to arrive, Mikasa dressed in the fine clothes made for her. Her boots and slacks were black, the leather of her boots polished to a shine. Her shirt was white linen and collared, though the collar and many of the buttons were hidden by her scarf. Her long coat was the deepest crimson she had ever seen, and the tiger embroidered on golden patches on her back, upper arms, and the left side of her chest were the same shade. The Ackerman sword on her belt was heavy enough for her tastes, and she did not fidget with her white gloves.

She headed into the foyer with time to spare, but she could not hide her surprise when Armin sheepishly led two women inside. He saw her raised brow and blushed, starting to stammer. His words failed when one of the women, even taller than Mikasa and wearing a long, sleeveless gray coat with a black dragon embroidered on her left lapel, lifted a white-gloved hand.

“There’s no need to apologize for my impatience, young man,” she said pleasantly. There was a faint trace of an accent in her voice, a heavier leaning on Rs and Ts that tended to show her teeth as she spoke. “I know I’m rather…intimidating.” She strode to Mikasa, and Mikasa tried to avoid gaping.

The woman’s hair was a dark silver, but spoke of being black years before. Her face was pale, like her own, but Mikasa found her gaze drawn to her eyes. Her face was marked by scars, four lines that cut over her left eye and rose at an angle to reach her right brow. Her left eye did not seem to be damaged, still the same gold color as the right.

The woman smiled, looking Mikasa up and down. “It looks like you hit your full height at fifteen, your excellency. The gray hair is a little surprising.”

Mikasa could not find words. Her vision was not overtaken, but she remembered a time when they were both younger, engaged in a sparring match being watched by a man she could neither see nor hear clearly.

Noticing her distant gaze, the woman chuckled. “Are you thinking about that kick you gave me that broke three ribs? It served me right. Johan warned me not to underestimate you, even if you were _twelve_ at the time and I was twenty-seven.”

She finally found the woman’s name and offered a hand. “I was, actually. I’m glad you could make it, Kailas.”

“I wouldn’t miss the chance to see you again,” she replied, “but you’ll have to forgive me for not shaking. I no longer can.” When Mikasa looked at her blankly, she took off one of her gloves. Her palm, from wrist to fingertips, was covered in scarring than looked as though it had come from severe burns.

Carefully pulling the glove back on, she said, “It finally became too painful to shake hands last year. I wasn’t the one who sent back the RSVP, either. Forgive my rudeness.”

“No, there’s nothing to forgive,” Mikasa protested. “I—I don’t remember your hands being like that before. Or—” She stopped herself.

“My face, yes?” Her smile turned cool. “Let’s call them souvenirs of my last trip to Pardus and leave it at that.”

“I see,” Mikasa said. “I apologize if I brought up unpleasant memories.”

“Not at all. Just don’t be surprised if I offend some of your other guests. I’ve cultivated that skill as I’ve gotten older.”

“I’m expecting I will, too,” Mikasa said. From the corner of her eye, she saw the other woman approach. Her features blended those of the people in Sina and some of those in Kailas’s face. Her skin was on the paler side and her eyes were almond-shaped like Kailas, but her long brown hair, green irises, and heart-shaped face spoke of a heritage coming from Sina. Her dress was similar to Kailas’s garb: a long indigo robe crossing closed over her chest and tied with a dark blue cloth belt. When she stepped close to Kailas, Mikasa realized there were crimson poppies embroidered in the fabric.

“I don’t remember you being with Kailas before,” Mikasa said. “Forgive my poor memory.”

The woman laughed. “I can’t stand watching Kailas get hurt, so I never visited with her when you were here. But I’m glad to meet you now. My name is Hova. I’m Kailas’s wife.” She offered her hand.

Mikasa stared for a moment before taking her hand. “That’s…rather bold to say to a Sina noble.”

Hova’s smile became a smirk. “I _have_ been around here to visit when those charming girls made it clear that they wanted to be married as well. If we still could, we’d take them to Pardus to make it official.”

She chuckled. “Well. We’ll see how that all turns out after tonight. Please, help yourselves to any refreshments you like. Dinner will be served a little while after sunset.”

“Feel free to come hunt us down if you get tired of playing polite for the Sina folk,” Kailas saying, smiling crookedly. She gave Hova her arm, and they went off on their own.

Armin tugged on Mikasa’s sleeve gently. He whispered, “Are you okay? Did that trigger anything?”

“I think I’ll be all right,” Mikasa replied. “The memory wasn’t distressing.” She smiled at him. “Thank you. Go back to welcome more guests.”

He nodded and headed back outside. Mikasa took a deep breath, put an arm behind her back, and tapped her fist against the small of her back five times. It steadied her, giving her focus enough to greet all the guests that came after.

It was easier than she thought to chat idly with everyone that sought her attention. Even when Jean sought to monopolize her time with stammering attempts at casual conversation, she was able to go along with him until an appropriate moment showed itself and let her break away. She drifted through the crowd after checking her pocket-watch, starting to suggest that everyone move to the courtyard for fresh food and drink.

Outside, the sun was creeping toward the horizon. Historia and Ymir played with the string quartet hired for the evening, ensuring that the guests remained in the courtyard. Without prompting, people began to pair off to dance. Mikasa avoided dancing as long as she could, but agreed when Hova came to her. From then on, she danced with anyone who asked, even dealing with Jean’s blushes up close.

Perfectly on schedule, she saw Hanji, Petra, and Eren slip down into the courtyard without being noticed. The sun set completely as they did, and Eren stepped on the switch near the stairs to turn on the tea-lights. So charmed by the lights were the guests that they stopped dancing to admire the glow. Historia looked to Mikasa, and then guided Ymir and the quartet through stopping.

Mikasa moved back toward the stairs, catching a full champagne flute from a server’s tray. She lifted it to draw attention to herself. Soon, every guest was turned toward her, and she smiled graciously at them.

“Thank you all for coming here,” she said, voice loud enough to carry through the courtyard. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Mikasa Ackerman, daughter of Johan Ackerman. I have been away for a number of reasons, but now that my father has passed away, I am here to take my place as head of the house. You all have been wonderfully inviting to me, and I offer a toast to the health of all my guests. May you all be blessed.”

She took a drink; all others followed. When glasses were lowered, eyes remained on her for a continuation of her speech.

“As many of the residents of Xenten are aware,” she said, “I have been away for an exceptionally long time. The reason I did not hold this party any sooner was due to the fact that I had to catch up on everything here in Xenten and Stohess at large. While I am relieved that the state of affairs outside my house is good, I am far happier about the state of the family I came home to.”

She beckoned Historia and Ymir over, gesturing for another server to take her glass away. She set her hand on Historia’s back, smiling fondly. “You can only imagine my relief when I saw how healthy and happy Baroness Renz is here. And when I met with the person who was a major source of her happiness, I was even more relieved.”

Ymir grinned when Mikasa clapped her on the shoulder, puffing her chest out when Mikasa gestured to her with her free hand.

“I met many nobles in my travels around the world,” Mikasa said, “and it was a fantastic surprise to find that a noble-born woman of Úlfurheim had taken up residence in my home. Not only that, but she had entered into a contract of fealty with Christa, forsaking her own family name until she could take up Christa’s name in love and loyalty.”

She caught the scandalized looks on a few faces, strongest on that of Stohess’s bishop, and let herself smile more broadly. “Seeing as the laws here do not yet allow two young women in love to fulfill such a contract, I thought it only fair to restore Ymir’s title of ‘lendur’ and give her all rights and privileges as a baroness here. I trust she will be well received.”

Ymir bowed deeply to her before moving out of the way with Historia, their fingers laced together and their grins enormous. Mikasa reveled in the shock she could see before clearing her throat and raising a hand to call attention her way once more.

“Now,” she said, “please permit me to make one last announcement before we continue our evening. It begins with a story you all know: the recent downfall of Kaiser Matvey Leonhardt and the Leonhardt Empire. This is a tragic tale, one born of a civil war that led to the death of a land’s rulers and a rushed exodus of many Liūtas citizens to escape the bloodshed. Allow me to introduce you to two survivors of that conflict.”

Hanji and Petra moved forward when she beckoned to them. “This is Petra Ral, the military intermediary between the kaiser and Commander Erwin Smith, and Hanji Zoe, tutor to Liūtas’ fürstin. They are here in Xenten because I summoned them when I returned home.”

Mikasa added contrition to her smile and laid a hand over her heart. “I must pause now to beg your forgiveness. My father and I have spent the last twelve years deceiving Stohess, Sina, and the entire world.” She waited through the startled murmurs. “The truth is this. Twelve years ago, I was not in Sina. I was in Liūtas, training with warriors in the empire. It was then that I was contacted by Kaiserin Nasya Leonhardt, and she requested something of me that I could not refuse.

“She begged me,” Mikasa said, “to rescue her beloved daughter from the violence building in her country. To keep her child from being assassinated at the tender age of thirteen.” Gasps of horror rose immediately. She looked around, nearly faltering when she saw the strange look on Kailas’s face.

“And so I slipped into the palace in the dead of night,” said Mikasa. “I took the fürstin to safety, and I brought her best friend at her request. I brought them here to be safe and happy, and I have stayed on the road for twelve years to keep attention away from them. You know one of them as Christa Renz. But I now have the honor of reintroducing to the world the _true_ ruler of Liūtas.”

She turned, gesturing to the stairs, and proudly said, “I introduce you all to Annie Leonhardt, kaiserin by birth of the Leonhardt Empire!”

Eyes turned; jaws dropped. Annie came down the stairs, hair in a bun held in place by a braid and clad in a golden dress that shimmered in the lights. Around her neck was a gold necklace, its chain a strong foxtail cord bearing a round sapphire. Mikasa had gone through chest after chest to find the necklace, and with every elegant step Annie took toward her while smiling, Mikasa felt her heart pound. Eren followed after Annie, holding out the box he carried to Mikasa. She opened it and took the crown from within. She set the crown on Annie’s head, taking her hand when it was safe and steady. Smiling, she kissed Annie’s hand.

“May your home be restored and your reign be blessed by Löwengöttin, your majesty,” Mikasa said, and she sank onto one knee before her.

Annie lay her hand on Mikasa’s head. “For your great service to me and my empire, I name you first reichsgräfin of the renewed empire. May your strength never fade.”

As Mikasa rose to her feet, there was nothing but silence around them. Shock was on every face. Mikasa and Annie continued to smile, and their smiles widened when a person broke away from the crowd to come forward. Kailas smiled at Annie and bowed at the waist, hands set very gently against each other.

“I am pleased you survived, your majesty,” she said. “You grace us with your presence.”

“Thank you,” Annie replied. “I am glad to have allies.”

She tipped her head. Quietly, she said, “Perhaps serving dinner would break the tension, miladies?”

“I believe you’re right,” Mikasa said, and she gestured to a server. Before she could speak to the crowd, she saw Kailas give her another strange look as she turned away. She ignored it as best she could and guided everyone to take a seat. As she offered Annie her arm to head to the table Ymir and Historia were saving for them, Annie whispered to her.

“I want my first dance to be with you,” she said.

Mikasa smiled at her. “I had hoped so, Leon-Hiyas.”

Annie smiled in turn and took her arm, the both of them heading to a table knowing they would not be allowed to eat much for all the questions thrown their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra special brownie points if you catch how I was a massive jackass in this chapter and call me out on it. I will still smile, though.


	5. 1802, 1703

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the night of the party, Mikasa knows that there are too many things she cannot remember to feel entirely safe. Her anxiety is not assuaged by a guest speaking to her over a game of chess, telling her she knows why Mikasa was really in Liūtas twelve years ago.
> 
> Things are only compounded when she visits Annie in the night to check on her headache and she remembers everything she felt the night they first met. It takes Annie's patience to calm her down, and she repays the kindness when she stays the night.
> 
> In the morning, a vast number of things are discussed with the returning guest, and a theory offered.

The night went along marvelously, and so amusingly that Mikasa had trouble holding down her laughter. The vast majority of their guests had no idea how to address Annie with the proper level of respect. Residents of Xenten were worst of all, beginning very casually before glancing up at her crown and trying to backpedal mid-word. When food was served, it was gratefully consumed to gain some measure of silence.

Of their guests, the ones who adjusted the fastest were Stohess’ bishop and Xenten’s council leader. The two men were genuinely humbled by Annie’s presence, and they professed their gratitude to Mikasa for saving Annie’s life. She could not detect any falsehood in this, and so relaxed when they bowed their heads to Annie.

A part of Mikasa was disappointed by the way Kailas never approached either her or Annie after the announcement. She had expected it once dinner was over and the dancing resumed. However, Kailas remained at a table, staring out toward the sea. Her face was turned away, and Mikasa did not ask Hova anything of it when they danced. In any case, she was more concerned with keeping her eyes on Annie and Ymir. While Annie was moving between conversations and guests with a natural talent, Ymir was actively looking for a fight.

“Do us all a favor,” Mikasa whispered when she danced with Historia. “See if you can keep Ymir out of trouble just for tonight. I would prefer Annie’s debut not be marred with unnecessary violence.”

Historia nodded and spent the rest of her evening at Ymir’s side, steering her away from MP officers and the bishop. As the moon rose higher, the guests grew more relaxed. The wealthy guests asked Annie and Historia about Liūtas in their youth, and the vidames gave Mikasa their sympathies for Johan’s passing. When the wine finally took full effect as the stars were all out, Mikasa did her best to monopolize Annie’s dances and spare her feet from poor partners.

A pause came after a faster song, giving everyone a chance to rest. Mikasa would have followed Annie to the table Historia and Ymir had claimed for the night, but her sleeve was caught. She turned to see Hova smiling at her.

“Kailas was hoping to take a bit of your time, your excellency,” she said. “She’s not able to dance much anymore.”

“Of course,” Mikasa said. She turned to Annie and bowed with a hand over her heart. “Your highness, if you could excuse me.”

“Go on,” Annie said. “I won’t keep you from a friend of your house.”

She bowed more deeply before being led away. Kailas was sitting at a table at the edge of the gathering, back to the rest of the party. Mikasa stared, and then felt her brows rise when Hova departed with a wave. She hesitated before moving to the other side of the table.

“Please, excellency,” said Kailas, smiling and gesturing to the chair Mikasa stood by. “I was able to get your servants to bring this out, and I was hoping to speak you over a game.”

Mikasa looked at the table and found a chessboard set up with the white pieces on Kailas’s side. Something twitched in the back of her neck, moving forward to close her throat, but she sat down regardless. She said, “Of course. Forgive my rudeness for not speaking with you sooner than this.”

Kailas chuckled. “Still such a formal child. Just like old times—never questioning that I always take white.” Her eyes closed as she undid the first three ties on her high-collared shirt, leaning her head forward. Mikasa barely had time to realize she was hiding her mouth before she spoke again.

“Believe me when I say this, Mikasa,” Kailas said quietly. “I do not want to make you upset.” She picked up a pawn between two fingers and made a move of two spaces. She looked up with half-closed eyes, frowning slightly and brows drawn together. “I know you were not in Liūtas for any civil reason.” Sympathy made her voice pitch quiet. “You were not there as an Ackerman.”

Mikasa’s hands began to tremble on the table.

“I know you don’t really remember me, even though I don’t know why,” Kailas murmured. “We’re not going to discuss details with so many people around. Please—I would like to play a game with you again.”

“How do I know you’re not going to expose me?” Mikasa whispered.

Kailas’s shoulders fell. “You don’t even remember _that_.” She looked at the chessboard and sighed. “Seventeen-oh-three. Do you remember that, eighteen-oh-two?”

Her stomach tightened. She opened a hand and made a move of one space. She said nothing for a time. Brows low, she whispered, “We’re alike, aren’t we.”

“In so very many ways.” She moved another pawn, and they set into playing.

Mikasa kept from speaking because her chest filled with ice. She tried to focus on the calmness in Kailas’s face, and eventually paused in moving a rook. “Do you need to return to your home immediately?”

“No. I wouldn’t mind showing Hova around now that you and I won’t be sparring.” She looked up, brow lifted. “Are you inviting us back?”

“If you’d like. It would be nice to have visitors.”

She smiled. “I’d love to.”

“Then perhaps you can come to breakfast to start a day?” Mikasa said. “Around eight?”

“Certainly.” She took a black piece and set it aside. “We can talk about things. Important things…involving the kaiserin and your history.”

She went still. She considered her remaining pieces, frowning at the disparity between black and white. Drumming her fingers, she made a move, setting her remaining bishop near the white king. “Check.”

Kailas’s smile returned. “You won our last game, you know. We left off an even forty-forty. And now it’s forty-one to me.” She went past the bishop with her queen and drew a path between it and the black king. “Checkmate, your excellency.”

“But,” Mikasa said, but stopped. She stared at the board. “All right, then.” She exhaled slowly, looking back toward the others. Annie had been pulled into a dance with Hanji, smiling as they moved. Petra kept an eye on Ymir while Jean fumbled through a dance with Historia.

“I understand, you know,” Kailas said.

She turned back. “What?”

“They’re your sibak. No one could blame you.”

A cold sweat instantly rose on the back of her neck. “My rift?” Her shoulders twitched; she glanced at Hova. “Is that what she is?”

“Not at all,” Kailas said. “I somehow never had one before I retired seven years ago.”

Her eyes went to the scars on Kailas’s face. She swallowed, but reset the board. “Let’s have one more game before the night ends.” Before she realized what she was saying, she added, “Should it please you, unang talim.”

Kailas looked at her with raised brows. When Mikasa stared back, startled, she chuckled. “I _retired_ , Mikasa. I’m not your first blade anymore—please call me by my name. But yes, I would love another game.” She made the first move and, to Mikasa’s frustration, made the last move.

“You have to come back tomorrow,” Mikasa said. “I need to even the score.”

“Oh, you can try,” Kailas said with a smirk. “But you should attend to her highness and your guests. It _is_ getting late.”

Mikasa looked into the sky. The moon was nearer to the manor, and her watch showed the time to be ten twenty-three. When she looked at the crowd, she saw yawns and sleepy smiles. “So its seems. Thank you for the conversation. It’s been illuminating.” They both stood up and went back to the crowd as a song finished. Mikasa gestured to the quartet, having them stand up to take a bow. As the guests applauded, Annie slipped back to Mikasa’s side.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mikasa said when the applause faded, “thank you all very much for coming here tonight. You have our gratitude for such a warm welcome to society. In the coming weeks, I hope we continue to receive your hospitality.”

“For now,” said Annie, “we will wish you a pleasant night and allow you to return to your lodgings. May Löwengöttin smile on your dreams.”

There was one last round of applause before guests began to move slowly toward the stairs, some weaving as they went. Those who were still sober paused to shake Mikasa’s hand or bow to Annie. The drunker among them waved lazily, and when all of them and the quartet were up the stairs and well out of sight and earshot, Ymir rushed to Mikasa and slapped her hard on the back.

“That was _great_!” Ymir said. “You have no idea how you scared the piss out of _every_ MP officer! They were falling over themselves to be sweet to Annie!”

Historia laughed, hurrying to hug Annie. “You were just like when we were kids! A picture perfect royal, regal as the lioness!”

“Picture perfect royal who had to dance with men _bathed_ in cologne,” Annie grumbled.

The smile vanished from Historia’s face as she let go to hold Annie at arms’ length. She frowned at the way Annie winced at the lights. “Dammit. Let’s get upstairs before it gets worse.”

Mikasa’s brows rose as Annie took off her crown and pushed it into her hands. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Annie said. “I just want to keep this from turning into a full migraine.”

“Of course,” Mikasa said. “Rest well, Leon-Hiyas.” She let Annie and Historia leave, beckoning Eren over to return the crown to its chest. The weariness of the night began to settle on her shoulders. She let her spine curl while she pulled off her gloves. The hard slap Ymir gave to her back made her look up.

“Feeling your age, old lady?” Ymir asked with a smirk.

Mikasa sighed. “I suppose.” She rubbed her neck. “But I’m glad tonight went so well. Let’s make sure that everything’s on track to be cleaned up.”

“Nah,” Ymir said. She stretched and yawned. “Too boring. I’m getting Historia when she’s done with Annie and going to bed.” Without giving Mikasa a chance to speak, she went off. Mikasa did not bother staring. She headed off with Petra, Hanji, and Eren to check that the last wave of volunteer crew members were prepared to tidy up. They were given instructions and set to them with Armin and Bertholdt directing them.

Mikasa stayed on the veranda to watch the lights go out. She closed her eyes when the last lights were turned off. The sound of chess pieces clicking on a board filled her ears. For a few seconds, she saw her much smaller hand moving pieces on a board in the sunlight.

Frowning, she opened her eyes and went inside. Avoiding everyone was easy enough, and she turned on a lamp in her room for normalcy’s sake as she undressed. Her coat was hung up properly, her scarf folded over the footboard of her bed. A loose gray tunic and dark skirt were chosen to sleep in. Before she got into bed, a thought came to her.

“ _Dammit_ ,” she hissed. She hurried to the bathroom, digging through the first aid kit. A dark glass bottle with a label caught her eye, and she checked the neat writing. The words “for migraines” stood out, and she left her room with it clutched in her hand. She went to Annie’s room, knocking on the door.

“Annie?” she said. “May I come in? Your medicine was left in my room—I want to make sure you have it.” No answer came back. Her brows lowered. She said, “Forgive me,” and opened the door. It was dark within, but it did not stymie her. She saw Annie lying on her side on the bed, back to the door.

Mikasa opened her mouth, but stopped when her spine straightened on its own. Her feet carried her forward and around the bed. As she went, the moonlight of a memory came into the room. She looked up to where Annie lay. There was someone else in the bed with her, small of body and with soft golden hair spread on the pillow. A soft breeze touched her back, coming in from the window she’d left open. It did not rustle her heavy black clothes and the cloth hiding the bottom half of her face.

The breeze made the young girl facing her stir. She opened brilliantly blue eyes slowly, blinking the sleep from them. Mikasa stopped breathing. She choked, just as the girl cowered and began to cry. Mikasa shook her head weakly, eyes welling over.

“I c-can’t,” she whispered. “I didn’t—know. Not children. N-not children.” She fell to her knees, dropping her knives to put her hands over her face. “I won’t. Please f-forgive me.”

“You’re…not going to kill us?” the girl asked.

“ _No_ ,” she rasped. “I won’t.”

“Mikasa?” Annie said.

Her head snapped up. Annie’s eyes were open, looking at her with something mixing nervousness and concern.

“What’s wrong?” Annie asked. “I can hear you crying.”

“I remember,” Mikasa said, unable to stop shaking. “I remember the night we met. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me. _Please_ —I’m sorry.” She clutched her hair. “I was there to—I _wouldn’t_ have—but—”

“Mikasa, _shut up_ and come here. _Now_.”

She looked up again. “But—”

“That wasn’t a request. That was an order.” Her voice softened when she said, “Take a minute to get some water, okay? Breathe.”

She hesitated, looking down and seeing the bottle on the floor in front of her. “A-all right. I—brought you your medicine.” She picked up the bottle and stood on uncertain legs. Taking Annie’s outstretched hand, she put the bottle in her palm and folded her fingers closed around it. She kept her movements mechanical to get to the bathroom and fill a glass with cool water. Part of her knew she was still crying, but she could not fight it.

“Here,” Mikasa said when she returned, giving Annie the glass. She let her legs give out and sat heavily on the bed by Annie’s feet.

“Breathe,” Annie repeated. “So I can hear it.”

At first, her breathing was ragged, full of stutters and half hiccups. When Annie finished the water, she moved to lean against her back. She rubbed Mikasa’s back slowly to guide her breathing. She tipped her head to rest on Mikasa’s shoulder.

“You sound better,” Annie murmured. “Do you feel any better?”

“I’m starting to,” Mikasa said. She wiped at her face. “I’m sorry. I felt everything I’d felt back then. I didn’t know it had been that intense.”

“You’re all right,” Annie said. She looped an arm around Mikasa’s waist from behind. “You know I’m not upset with you.”

“I do.” She sighed, drying her face completely. “I can’t believe I panicked that badly.”

“You recovered quickly enough,” Annie said. “We were out the window in fifteen minutes.”

She looked her hands, remembering the burn of the rope as she slid down it one-handed bearing more weight. “How in the world did you two not cry?”

“We _did_. We just hid our faces on you to be quiet.”

“I see.” She closed her eyes as her shoulders drooped. “It’s strange…but I still can’t remember your face as a child. I know I just saw it, but all I can keep are your eyes. No wonder I recognized your eyes first.”

Annie tightened her grip. “That’s fine.”

The faintness of her voice made Mikasa look over her shoulder. She turned completely when Annie did not look up, setting her hands on Annie’s cheeks. Heat from a blush rose under her palms.

“This is how I see you now,” Mikasa said. “You don’t have to worry about if I see you as a child.”

After a time, Annie said, “I know.”

Mikasa smiled, though she knew Annie could not see it. “I’m sorry for disturbing your rest like this. Are you doing all right?”

“I’m fine. I didn’t need the medicine—my headache is almost gone.” She reached up to take one of Mikasa’s hands. “But thank you for bringing it.”

Mikasa set her other hand down by Annie’s hip for balance. She kissed Annie, lingering until she felt Annie’s shaky exhale against her cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

“I thought,” Annie mumbled, “you didn’t want to rush.”

“I don’t. I just wanted to kiss you and make you blush a little more.”

“You can’t tell that I’m blushing,” Annie protested.

Mikasa chuckled and ran her thumb over Annie’s cheek. “Even if I _couldn’t_ see you right now, your skin is too warm. You’re blushing.”

Annie’s brows lowered. “You can see in the dark?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“I can see that you’re wearing dark green pajamas with black buttons. Your right collar is standing up from being on your side. Your hair, too.”

She put a hand to her head, frowning when she felt her mussed hair. “You couldn’t see in the dark before.”

“I believe it’s a result of being in my cell so long. It’s rather handy.” Her smile faded when Annie looked down. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate thinking of you in Utgard for twelve years.”

“Think of me here in your room,” Mikasa replied. “Or wherever makes you happiest.”

“Here,” said Annie.

“Then I’ll stay here tonight.”

Annie rolled her eyes, still blushing. “You already know that I care about you. You don’t have to court me.”

“But it seems to please you.” She kissed Annie’s nose before she could protest, pulling her back toward the top of the bed. They got under the covers, Annie pressing her face to Mikasa’s chest. Mikasa ran her fingers through her hair slowly, petting her head with such care that Annie groaned.

“Annie?”

“Mmph.”

“Simply for curiosity’s sake,” Mikasa said quietly, “how often do you think about us in bed together?”

She was still and silent for ten seconds. “A lot.”

“I see.” She continued to pet Annie’s head. “That’s all I wanted to know for now.”

Annie sighed. Slowly, she pulled at the loose neck of Mikasa’s tunic. When her skin was in reach, she kissed her chest. Her lips stayed close, her exhales warm against Mikasa.

Words did not come to her. She slid her hand up the back of Annie’s shirt and pulled her closer. When Annie muffled a whimper against her chest, she stopped and said, “Tell me to stop if you want me to. I want to give you what you want.”

“Have,” Annie whispered, “have you done this before? Had sex with someone?”

“Maybe. Does it bother you too much?”

Annie considered the words in her mouth. “It’s always _bothered_ me. I wanted to be part of your life. But I don’t know how much I want to know about you having sex before. I just want to focus on _us_ now.”

Mikasa rolled them over so Annie lay atop her. “You can do that. We’re the only people here.” She put a hand on Annie’s cheek. “Look at me.”

Annie put her hands down above Mikasa’s shoulders, lifting herself up. She narrowed her eyes in the dark, but sat up on Mikasa’s hips enough to gain more balance. Moving slowly for caution, she ran her fingers over Mikasa’s lips.

“How much of me can you see now?” Mikasa asked.

“The shape of your eyes,” Annie said. “And the lighter parts of your hair a little.” She exhaled. “I want to see you properly. Give me a second.” She moved off Mikasa to reach her bedside lamp, turning it on at a dim setting. When she turned back, Mikasa had moved to sit against the headboard, lap open and hands spread in invitation.

“And now I see you’re smiling.”

“I have a number of reasons to smile,” Mikasa replied. “Come here.”

She went to sit on Mikasa’s thighs, but tilted when Mikasa lifted her knees. She set her hands on Mikasa’s chest, leaning in even more.

“Don’t stop until I ask,” she said.

Mikasa dug her nails into the small of Annie’s back, just hard enough to make her inhale quickly. “I’ll be glad to do both.”

————

When morning came, she woke bare beneath the covers, face pressed to her own tunic because Annie had pulled it on to sleep in. She lay next to Annie, one arm draped over her waist with her head on Annie’s chest. Propping herself up on one elbow, she watched Annie’s sleeping face by the traces of sunlight that slipped past the curtains.

There was only relaxation to be found in Annie, from the pleased half smile on her face to the stillness of her body. Mikasa brushed aside the beck of the tunic to see if her kisses and bites had left marks. Annie shifted when she took her hand away, stretching slowly.

“You’re not getting your shirt back,” Annie mumbled.

“You have to give it back at least long enough for me to get something else,” Mikasa replied. “My room isn’t far, but I don’t want to go without something to wear.”

Annie sighed noisily. “Fine. But I want it back to sleep in.”

“Of course. Let me change, Leon-Hiyas, while it’s still early.”

She sighed again, but sat up to take off the tunic, passing it to Mikasa before curling back up under the covers. Giving Mikasa a meaningful look, she said, “Hurry back.”

Mikasa smiled and kissed Annie’s cheek before getting out of bed and dressing. She slipped into the hall, closing the door gently behind her. As the latch clicked, another further down the hall opened. She turned, finding both Ymir and Historia a few doors away and gaping at her. She only raised a brow at them, and Ymir’s smug grin faltered.

“Erm,” Historia said. “Were you…well. In Annie’s…bed?”

“I was. I seem to recall that sex is rather helpful to relieve some headaches. It was the case for Annie.”

Historia turned bright red, voice failing completely.

“Is Annie going to be decent?” Ymir asked.

“I couldn’t see anything past her clothes.” She smiled. “I was careful. But excuse me for a moment—I need to get dressed for company.” She went to her door and opened it.

“Congrats on joining the ‘I bang Liūtas royalty’ club!” Ymir said quickly.

Mikasa ignored her, closing the door to the sound of Historia punching Ymir hard on the back. After checking the time on her bedside clock, she cleaned up. A brief bath was taken, and she found herself picking more casual clothes. Loose, light trousers matched a similar short sleeved shirt, and she returned to Annie’s room with her scarf around her neck and her tunic in hand. As she went inside, Annie looked at her with a raised brow.

“Why’re you dressed for the day?” she asked. “I thought you were getting clothes for when we _eventually_ got up.”

She felt herself blush despite everything. “I didn’t realize we’d spend the night together like this. I asked one of our guests back to visit more properly.”

Annie sat up, not bothering to cover her breasts with the sheets. “Who?”

“Kailas,” Mikasa said, sitting down with her. “She…knew I was lying when I said I was in Liūtas to save you. But she wasn’t threatening me. We knew each other.” Softly, she added, “I think we were both assassins.”

“Then she could help you remember more.”

“I hope.”

“All right.” She took Mikasa’s tunic, pulling it on before getting out of bed. “When is she coming?”

“In less than an hour. Around forty minutes.”

She sighed and stretched. “Not enough time for you to take a bath with me.”

“Perhaps later today?” Mikasa said, scratching the nape of Annie’s neck to see her shiver.

“Don’t tempt me to drag you in with me.” She walked away to the bathroom, groaning as she stretched again.

Mikasa smiled, moving to open a set of the curtains and let in sunlight. She went onto the balcony, letting the sea breeze wash over her skin. The sunlight broke on the water far below, bright in small pieces in the waves. It seemed like no time at all had passed before Annie joined her, rubbing at her damp hair with a towel.

“You’re really not worried about her knowing who you were?” Annie asked.

“I think she’s connected to why I was here with Johan in my youth. She never said anything that made me nervous. Just confused, as usual.”

“Like what?”

“She called you and Historia my ‘sibak,’ which means rift. And I called her ‘unang talim,’ which evidently means ‘first blade,’ but I don’t know what that is. I would like some clarification, so I thought I should take a chance.”

“It’s better than nothing. Come on.” She led Mikasa back inside, having her sit on the bed while she dressed in denim trousers and a short sleeved white hooded shirt. They went downstairs, looking at each other when they heard Hanji’s excited voice in the foyer. On arriving, they saw Hanji closely examining Kailas’s burned hands, speaking rapid fire while Petra hid her face and Hova struggled to not laugh.

“I’ve never seen burns like these!” Hanji said. “How on earth did you get them?”

“An incident with fire and flammable oils,” Kailas replied, smiling. “Please don’t bend my fingers back while you look.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry.” They hummed as they thought, gently pressing on her palms. “These are quite severe, though. Did the incident involve a fight of some kind?”

“Of some kind, yes.”

Hanji let go of her hands to rise up on their toes and look at the scars on her face. “The same fight that gave you these? It looks like you’re lucky to not have lost that eye.”

“Hanji,” Petra said through her fingers, “please stop that. They’re guests for Annie and Mikasa.”

Kailas waved a hand, still smiling. “I don’t mind. It’s refreshing to have someone be so openly curious about my scars. I rather like you, Hanji.”

On spotting Mikasa and Annie, Hanji grinned. “You know some interesting people, excellency.”

“You flatter me,” Kailas said. She saw Historia and Ymir come down the stairs as well and said, “Good. Let’s talk before breakfast. Where is your parlor?”

“It’s this way,” Ymir said, jabbing a thumb in one direction. “C’mon, follow me.”

“Not you,” Kailas said. “Only Mikasa, her royal highness, the Lady Renz, and Hova if she wishes to join us.”

Ymir gaped briefly. “Sorry, _what_?”

“This is not your business to hear.”

“She’s gonna tell me anyway!” Ymir protested, pointing at Historia.

“And she has the right. However, you will hear none of this from me. No one but those directly involved in Mikasa’s past may hear this from me.”

“What the hell, I wanna know as much as anyone else! I haven’t told anyone about _them_!”

Hanji opened their mouth to protest as well, but Petra reached up to clamp her hand over their mouth. They both retreated, cold sweats rising on their necks, when Kailas slowly advanced on Ymir.

Kailas’s smile lost its warmth as she moved, starting to circle around Ymir. “Tell me. Have you sparred with Mikasa since she arrived?”

“Yeah,” Ymir said, fidgeting. “Why?”

“How well did you fare?”

“Well—I won four times.”

“Out of how many matches?”

“Twenty,” Ymir admitted quietly.

“And she did not give you any injuries worse than scrapes and bruises?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.” She stopped in front of Ymir, leaning in very close to speak in little more than a whisper. “I would not be as kind as her. Do not argue with me.”

For a few seconds, Ymir could not think to speak. She reconsidered when a chill ran down her spine and nodded, stepping back.

The cheer instantly returned to Kailas’s smile. “Thank you. I’ll try to be quick.” She turned to look at Mikasa. “If you would.”

Historia went first, looking startled, followed by Kailas and with Annie and Mikasa trailing. When they arrived at the parlor, Mikasa closed and locked the door behind them. Annie and Historia sat together on a lounge, and Mikasa sat in a chair opposite the one Kailas took.

“My apologies for disturbing your lover, Lady Renz,” Kailas said. “I am still honor bound to secrecy.”

“To _what_?” Annie asked.

Kailas chuckled and took off a gold necklace hidden by her shirt. On the strong chain was a broad gold band bearing a ruby cut in the shape of a four-pointed star. Mikasa flinched.

“So you do remember a few things,” Kailas said. “What happened to you?”

“I was imprisoned in Utgard,” Mikasa replied. “They gave me some kind of drink that destroyed my memories but—”

“They’re starting to come back?”

“Ye—how do you know that?”

“Because that’s what happens if you don’t make it properly.” She sighed. “I’ve always wondered where that information went to when part of the recipe was stolen.” As Annie glared at her, she said, “The drink is a tool we developed for targets that could be left alive, but needed to forget all they knew. And ‘we’ refers to the organization this ring comes from. Uncia.”

Annie’s glare grew confused. “I…feel like I’ve heard that word.”

“If you did, it would’ve been from your father,” Kailas said, putting the necklace back on. “We introduce ourselves to royalty to offer our services—you would’ve met one of us when you came of age.”

“There’s an organization of assassins that goes out of its way to _introduce_ itself?” Annie asked.

“Of corse. How else would we get steady business? We favor royals, but we’ll work for nobles and commoners for the right price.”

“And the ring is a sign of membership?” Mikasa asked.

“For assassins qualified to go out in the field. Johan received one, and I delivered yours when you were…fifteen, I believe.”

“ _Johan_ was an assassin?” Historia asked.

“Most of the Ackerman house has been,” Kailas replied. “The same is true of the Arav house in Pardus, which was my cover family until I retired.”

Mikasa sighed, rubbing her eyes. “And that explains why so many people here remember me as Johan’s daughter.” She held up a hand to keep anyone from speaking as she thought. “Was Johan retired when I was here?”

“From taking assignments, yes. His task was to refine you and give you the Ackerman name.”

“Then why don’t you still use the Arav name when he was retired, too?” Historia asked.

Kailas looked at her with a slightly raised brow. She lifted a hand to show her burned palm. “I’m not able to train a successor. Me living in Pardus under my cover name would only cause problems for Uncia.”

“So you were injured and your masters forced you out of your home and your country,” Annie said with a sneer.

Kailas smiled with sympathy. “Your highness, I understand that you miss Liūtas, but this wasn’t a punishment. The burns and the scars on my face are the least of the injuries I received protecting Uncia’s leader. She let me make any request I wanted in gratitude for what I’d done.

“I asked to have a life that would serve Uncia, but let me live out my days in comfort married to Hova. She granted that request—it’s why we’re never fined or imprisoned here in Sina. In any case, we could pay the fines with the money Uncia sends us and the payments I hoarded.”

“Wait,” Historia said, frowning. “If your hands are so badly hurt, why did you threaten Ymir like that?”

“Because my hands are only one of my body’s weapons,” Kailas said simply. She looked to Mikasa, examining her lowered gaze, furrow brow, and visibly growing anger. “Ask me anything you want. I’ll answer everything that I can.”

Mikasa rubbed her face before standing up and starting to pace around the room. “How did Johan never have that much money after I brought Annie and Historia here? _You_ receive money from Uncia.”

“He stopped receiving a stipend after you left. Not to mention he had money from his title as count.”

“Then where did all the money I’ve found come from?”

Kailas looked up to think. “I believe the man previously heading the Ackerman house was…fifteen seventy-four. Avon was the name he chose, and he was one of the wealthiest assassins in the last generation. He didn’t enjoy sharing, even with Johan, his real son.”

Scowling, voice growing louder, Mikasa demanded, “Who the hell would send me to kill _children_?”

“Anyone with the money and a reason.”

“Then why was I not _told_ they were children when I took the order?” Mikasa shouted. “It’s clear to me that I never would’ve taken the order if I knew that fact!”

Kailas held up both hands. “We receive information our clients see fit to give us and take jobs based on the price they offer—the order likely did not have that information on it to make sure we would take it. From what I heard, the Liūtas order was one of the highest offered prices we’ve ever received. Given the fact that you were our best assassin, our leader presented to you first.”

“If I was your best assassin, why did no one try to find me after I vanished?”

“Why on earth would we do that?” Kailas asked. “Considering the immediate fall of Liūtas, our leader probably thought you had died on assignment.”

“Would either you or Johan have come to help if you knew I was in Utgard?”

Kailas was silent.

“You called them my sibak,” Mikasa said. “That no one could blame me for what I did. What does it mean, and why wouldn’t it mean that you would’ve helped me?”

Kailas exhaled slowly. “A sibak is a fundamental rift between an order you take and your own morals. Every assassin is given permission to act on anything they feel they feel must be a rift for them. We cannot judge each other for acting on a sibak.”

“But you wouldn’t _help_.”

“Please understand,” Kailas said, voice soft and eyes on the floor. “I was your teacher first. I am an ally, much as I was to Johan. But if I had known you were in Utgard…I would not have come to save you. I would have done what I could to free you—bribery, threats, coercion. But I would not have revealed myself. I don’t know what Johan would’ve done.”

“They were waiting for me for _twelve years_!” Mikasa bellowed, stopping in front of Kailas to lean in and shout in her face. “I was forced to abandon them in a country where they knew absolutely _no one_! No one that knew what I had put them through or had a reason to care about them! And you have the _gall_ to tell me that you wouldn’t have come to help me yourself?”

Kailas moved too quickly to see, putting one hand on Mikasa’s forehead and one on her chest and spinning them about to slam Mikasa into the chair and lean in to hold her still.

Annie tried to stand, but Historia held her where she was. Mikasa sat frozen with shock, unable to breathe or see with how hard Kailas pressed on her head and chest.

“Listen,” Kailas said sharply. “I understand you feel betrayed. The fact that you don’t remember things makes it worse. But I _would_ have helped. I would have helped them while you were gone. I’m sorry this happened to you, and I would like to be your ally again.”

“How?” Mikasa muttered.

“Send word to Uncia to put an order of litgas on them, to start.”

“What does that mean?” Annie asked.

“An order of litgas means that someone can never be an assignment,” Kailas said. “Members of Uncia are litgas unless they betray us, and an assassin can have the person who caused their sibak be given an order of litgas. If eighteen-oh-two’s sibak was you two, then you deserve that safety.” She turned to look at Historia. “But I’ll need your _real_ name.”

Annie stood up, moving in front of Historia. “That _is_ her real name.”

Kailas smirked. “Mikasa already called her Historia. Why are you continuing to hide it?”

“Because her father was the one who gave the order to kill us. And Historia doesn’t want to let him know she’s still alive.”

“Why would he give another order for her if she thinks she died. Besides, if he _does_ learn she’s alive, wouldn’t you prefer the safety of the order?”

Historia sighed, putting a hand on Annie’s hip. When she stepped aside, Historia said, “My real name is Historia Reiss.”

Kailas froze. She took her hands from Mikasa and went to Historia with long strides. She knelt down, touching Historia’s chin to make her lift it. Her brows lowered.

“Who was your mother?” she asked.

“Nasya Leonhardt.”

Her mouth opened. She closed it and sighed through her nose.

“Why are you acting like that?” Annie asked. “What do you know?”

“I’m not bound to secrecy for the nobles,” Kailas murmured. “I’m willing to bet that your father is _Rhode_ Reiss, the king of Sina.”

No one spoke for a long time.

“Go back fifty steps and explain what the hell you just said,” Historia said weakly.

“The Raugraves house is a puppet family,” Kailas replied. “The Reiss house has always ruled from behind the scenes. Rhode is convinced of his divinity—that he can do anything he wants and doesn’t need to explain himself. That might be why he’s only had a child with a woman as high a rank as the kaiserin…but I don’t know how kindly he went about it.”

Historia paled, but Annie said, “ _Only_? She’s his only child?” Her jaw dropped when a thought came to her. “The order wasn’t about me. He wanted to kill Historia—and our mother. I was a cover—the entire fall of _Liūtas_ was a cover.” She tried to speak in vain for a few seconds before looking at Mikasa. “Do you remember _anything_ else about what your order said?”

Mikasa let her head fall forward to stare at the floor. She put her hands over her eyes, trying to call up the memory. Nothing came to her, and she sighed heavily. “No. I don’t remember a thing other than what it said about you.”

After a moment, Kailas said, “I think I may be able to help you with your memories. It’s only a theory, but still.”

“I have to have my memories again,” Mikasa said, looking up. “I know who my enemy is—I can’t destroy him without knowing how. Whatever theory you have, please tell me.”

“I can get you in touch with someone who makes that drink. Eighteen-sixty is the most recent master of it.” She tapped her chin as she thought. “She chose the name…Rico Brzenka. I think she lives on Ragako, an island fifty or so miles south of here.”

“Then let her know I’ll be visiting her soon,” Mikasa said.

Kailas smiled. “I’ll be happy to. If you’d like, I can send out letters from here for that and to get the order of litgas for their highnesses before Hova and I go home.”

Mikasa returned her smile. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”


	6. First and Last Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is for her memories that Mikasa heads to 1860, named unang karayom, first needle and mistress of poisons and antidotes for Uncia. For any cost, any struggle, she needs to get her memories back.
> 
> And it is what she gets, from her childhood to her assignments, from her time with Johan Ackerman to the day she lost her freedom. She finds it is all entirely worth the tears when she wakes up again.

It was a simple matter to throw another pouch full of gold into Levi’s hands to get him to sail them to Ragako. He did not bother to mutter and grumble, instead setting off two days later when the wind was strong. Mikasa watched the manor grow smaller and smaller, swaying slightly to counter the rocking of the ship. The sound of gagging nearby made her turn. To her surprise, both Annie and Ymir were at the railing of the lower deck, looking green and completely miserable. She went to them as Ymir coughed wetly.

“Were you this seasick when we came from Liūtas?” Mikasa asked, rubbing Annie’s back.

“No,” Annie croaked. “Dammit.”

“Petra said it should only take until tomorrow morning if the wind stays with us,” Mikasa said. “Once we get further out the water won’t be so choppy.”

Annie said nothing, mouth twisting as her shoulders rose. Ymir did not bother with struggling against it and vomited with her head over the sea.

“If that stains my ship, you’re dead!” Levi shouted from the flying deck.

Ymir waved her middle finger at him before vomiting again. Even when Historia came back with ginger tea and salted crackers, she did not lift her head.

“Lemme just die, Hvolpur,” she grunted.

Historia rolled her eyes and made Annie sit down to drink something. “You know that if you die, you can’t punch anyone who called you names before.”

Ymir sighed and sat down carefully. Once she and Annie had kept down some tea and crackers, Mikasa headed toward the front of the ship. She watched the sun on the water, and then looked at her hands and the ring on her right middle finger.

The ring was hers, she was certain, if only for how it fit. A dream the night before had led her to the bookcase in her room and a secret door behind the books on a high shelf. Within was the ring, its four-pointed ruby almost glowing in the dark, and a slip of paper wrapped around the band.

The only words on the paper were, “That of unang anino.” She took it from the inner pocket of her coat, nestled between pocket watch, handkerchief, and a letter, and stared at the handwriting and the dulled black ink.

“First shadow,” she whispered. “Is that what my title was?” She ran her thumb over the words. “Who wrote this?”

“Johan did,” said someone beside her.

She turned, seeing Historia. “Did you see me give this to him?”

Historia shook her head. “By the time we got to the estate, Annie and I were mostly asleep. We stayed awake to say goodbye, but I don’t really know if you and Johan had a conversation. I just know his handwriting.”

Mikasa sighed through her nose. “I hope it’ll make sense to me soon.”

“Erm,” Historia said, and then stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

“What if she can’t help you? Or what if it doesn’t work?”

“Then I wait for my memories to come back on their own. That would be all right, I suppose.”

“And what if it works too well and you stop being who you are now?”

Mikasa looked at her properly. “Why would that happen?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I just worry about it a lot, especially when getting your memories back is so hard on you already.” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Mikasa reached out with one arm and pulled Historia closer. “I doubt that would be anything to worry about. It might be unpleasant to go through, but I can’t go on without knowing all of it.”

“I suppose. Just don’t do it if _you_ think it’s dangerous.”

She held her closer for a moment. “I don’t think I can make that promise.”

“I know,” Historia whispered.

————

The only word to describe the look on Rico Brzenka’s face when she opened her door and found the four of them on her step was “offended.” The only reason she did not slam the door was the fact that she automatically looked down at Mikasa’s right hand. Her brow rose slowly at the sight of her ring.

“Come inside,” she said, stepping out of the way. Once they all had done so, she closed the door and set three different locks. “Do you have an order needing poison?”

“No,” Mikasa said, reaching inside her coat. “I need something different. This will explain better than I could.” She held out the letter.

Rico took it, turning it over to check its seal and signature. “Seventeen-oh-three? How did you get a letter of introduction from that old dragon?” She opened the letter and read, brow rising even further. When she was done, she looked up slowly.

“ _You’re_ eighteen-oh-two?” she asked.

“Well…yes. I don’t exactly know what that means now.”

Rico looked at the letter again, pale and frowning. “No wonder she sent you to me. It’s a waste of time recovering what you lost bit by bit.”

Her heart jumped into her throat. “You—you really can reverse the effects of the drink?”

“I wouldn’t be named unang karayom if I couldn’t reverse almost any poison our assassins deal with. Besides, if I couldn’t recover _your_ memories, huling anino would be disappointed.”

“Can you assholes not speak in code?” Ymir grumbled.

Rico sighed, took off her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Unang karayom, first needle. Master or mistress of poisons and antidotes. Huling anino, last shadow. The head of Uncia. Eighteen-oh-two’s title was ‘unang anino,’ first shadow—next in line to lead Uncia. She can explain everything else when this is finished, because I’m sure as hell not playing teacher.”

She put her glasses back on and gestured for them to follow her. They went down a flight of stairs in the middle of the house, heading into a basement filled with dried foods and plants. They did not stop there, as Rico pushed what looked like a heavy worktable along grooves in the floor. She ducked down to grab the handle of a trapdoor held down by the table, propping it open with thin rods she pulled from the door itself.

“Mind the first step,” she told them, heading down first. Ymir followed to help Historia on the steep stair, and Mikasa did the same with Annie before closing the trapdoor. When she had, Rico flipped a switch some stairs down to turn on lights. They headed even further down, finally arrived in a large room filled with shelves of vials, bottles, and jars, a table covered in loose notes, beakers, and test tubes, and one lone chair in a corner.

“All right,” Rico said, leaning against the table. “Details. What’s happened to you?”

“I was in Utgard for twelve years,” Mikasa replied. “Every few days, I was forced to drink a black liquid that destroyed all of my memories aside from how to function. Two months ago, I escaped and I haven’t had any more of the drink. Bits and pieces have been coming back, but not much and not fast.”

“How has it been when you remember things?” Rico asked. “Difficult or easy?”

“Difficult.”

“She threw up and passed out one really bad time,” Ymir added.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Rico. “I think it’s a miracle you _survived_ twelve years of it. Even when it’s made correctly to wipe your mind, it’s still a poison.” She thought, brows low. “You probably built up a tolerance to it, though. At least it kept you alive and didn’t burn your brain out.” She continued to think, tapping her fingers on the table. When she stopped, she frowned.

“Purging this out of you isn’t something I want to do with you conscious,” she said. “You’d pass out from the strain anyway.”

“That’s fine,” Mikasa said. “I have to have it all back.”

“It could take a full twenty-four hours to work completely. Maybe longer for you.”

“ _Please_.”

Rico exhaled slowly. “All right. Take off your coat and sit in the chair while I make everything.”

She did so, taking her sword from her back and setting it and her coat against the wall. Although the chair was padded and entirely comfortable, Mikasa was displeased by finding straps and buckles at the level of her chest, left arm, and legs.

“What are these for?” she asked.

“To hold you still,” Rico said, not looking away from her notes and ingredients. “It’s just a precaution.”

“Against _what_?” Annie asked.

“If she winds up moving in her sleep. I don’t want her sleepwalking and hurting herself. Besides, I’ll leave her right arm free so she can get loose when she wakes up.” She waved one hand impatient, and she resumed working as they went silent.

Mikasa tried to keep herself from fidgeting, but could not help the way she tapped her thumbs on the chair’s arms. She kept her eyes on the floor, listening to the clink of mortar and pestle and of glass stirring rods in glass beakers. A faint puff of gas was followed by a small burner igniting. As the flame burned, Rico worked on another glass of something.

Annie moved to Mikasa’s side, setting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. Mikasa could not look up at her, but set her hand atop hers. Even Ymir waited patiently, though in an effort to avoid coming into contact with the shelves. Historia caught her hand, holding tight for the minutes they waited.

“They’re both set,” Rico said. “This first.” She poured a deeply blue liquid into a glass, going to Mikasa to offer it. “This should keep you asleep for about twenty-four hours. It’ll start working ten minutes after your first swallow, so down it fast.”

Mikasa exhaled before drinking the entire glass. It was faintly sweet, and she handed the glass back with a strange taste in her mouth. She frowned when Rico began to strap her to the chair, but did not protest. She did, however, go pale when Rico retrieved a syringe filled with what appeared to be blood.

“Does this have to be a needle?” she asked weakly. “Couldn’t it be another drink?”

“Tried that once,” Rico said, handing Annie the syringe. She took a rubber cord from her pocket and tied a tourniquet around Mikasa’s right bicep. “You can’t mix the sleeping draft and this in your stomach. You throw them back up. Calm down.”

Mikasa winced as Rico tapped the inside of her elbow to find a vein. She closed her eyes for the rest, dimly aware of when her arm was wiped clean and when the needle was pressed through her skin. Annie gripped her shoulder through it, only loosening her grip when Rico drew the needle back.

“There,” Rico said, taping a cotton ball down on Mikasa’s arm. “Feeling weird yet?”

She blinked and found that her sight was growing blurry. “A…bit.”

“Good. The sooner you sleep, the sooner it’ll work. I’ll keep them all upstairs, so that’s where you’ll find us when you wake up.”

“Thank you.” She blinked again on hearing retreating footsteps, feeling her shoulders growing heavy. Annie lingered to kiss her head, and soon she was alone in the low light. It did not take long at all before she was fast asleep.

————

She was four years old, and she had always been called “1802.” It did not bother her; it was a name, after all. The woman who looked after her said her own name was “1005.” 1005 was not her mother, nor did she pretend to be. She was far from cruel, but tended to be overly blunt. There was no moment that made 1802 realize this more than their conversation on the day designated as her fourth birthday.

“Ten-oh-five?” she asked that night, playing with a puzzle she’d been given as a present. “Are you my relative?”

“No,” 1005 said, reading through letters stacked on the low table she sat at.

“Why do I live here?”

Without looking up from the letter in her hand, 1005 said, “You were an infant born in a slave cartel in the south of Pardus. We dismantled that cartel, but because you had no living family to claim you, you were brought back to Uncia to be trained as one of us.”

“Huh?”

1005 paused. She set the letter aside and turned, crooking a finger. Once 1802 had settled before her, she considered her words. “Let’s see. You were going to be someone’s property all your life—someone would own you like you own that puzzle. But two years ago, we—Uncia—were paid to kill the people who had captured everyone as slaves and set everyone else free. The team of assassins who did this said that you had no one to claim you, so they asked me to let you join us. To give you a good life.”

“Oh.” She looked at her small hands, unsure of what to say. “So…is eighteen-oh-two my real name? People in my books don’t have numbers for names.”

1005 chuckled. “Eighteen-oh-two is your name within Uncia. Your _real_ name will be something you choose for yourself. It will mean much more to pick your own name than for me or for anyone else to give you one on a whim. But,” she added, “you shouldn’t share it with everyone.”

“Why?”

“Names have a lot of power. They’re special. People who hire you or who you have to kill have no right to it, especially if they want to try and hurt _you_ by destroying your name. You’ll need one for where I’ll send you, but you don’t even have to tell other assassins. In our family, you will always be eighteen-oh-two.”

“What’s _your_ real name?”

1005 blinked her mismatched eyes, one green and one blue. “Mine?”

“Yeah.”

“My name is ten-oh-five. I never chose a different name.”

She sighed quietly. The pout that had been building on her face vanished when 1005 patted her cheek.

“You’ve still got a year before you’ll need a name. You can read more of my books from now on to find one. Now go on and work on your puzzle until you’re tired.”

She went back to the puzzle, but went still with a sudden thought. “If your name is ten-oh-five, why do visitors call you ‘huling anino’?”

“Because I am Uncia’s leader, the last of our shadows.” 1005 said no more, and so 1802 worked at her puzzle until she fell asleep on top of it.

————

On the morning her fifth birthday, she had her few belongings and her favorite book packed in preparation. She waited with equal amounts of patience and nervousness, taking comfort in the way 1005 patted her on the back. She stood up when the visitor they were waiting for was announced, and 1005 did the same.

And excessively tall young woman was shown in, wearing black and gray like every other visitor. Her eyes were deeply gold, and they were friendly and warm as she strode to 1802.

“So you’re the child nine-eighteen and his team brought in,” the woman said, kneeling before her. “You certainly look strong.” She offered a hand. “I’m seventeen-oh-three. You can call me Kailas Arav.”

She took the woman’s hand with her own small one. “I’m eighteen-oh-two. My name is Mikasa.”

“Ah,” Kailas said with a smile. “The goddess of strength from the old Pardus myths, yes?”

She nodded.

“That’s a very special name. Protect it well.” She stood up, stretching slightly. “Are you ready to go?”

“Am I never coming back?” she asked.

“You’ll visit Uncia’s headquarters for training and testing at least twice a year,” said 1005. “More if you like. But you’ll be building your life now, so it’s all right to visit only twice a year.”

Mikasa nodded, and then said, “Thank you, huling anino.”

1005 inclined her head. “Seventeen-oh-three, fifteen eighty-seven will have money and weapons for the trip. You can find him in the armory.”

Kailas lay her hand flat over her heart and bowed her head. “Papuri sa anino.”

Mikasa mirrored her quickly, echoing, “Papuri sa anino.”

“Tapang sa iyo,” 1005 replied. “Go on.”

Mikasa retrieved her kitbag and took Kailas’s hand, the two of them heading out onto the grounds. For a long while, Mikasa was quiet and patient through continued waiting. Once Kailas had taken a belt of knives and a bag of money from a man in the armory and retrieved her own sword from the main entrance of the compound, though, she pulled on Kailas’s hand.

“Who am I going to live with?” she asked.

“Seventeen eighty-one,” Kailas said. “He’s an old friend of mine, actually.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Johan. His full name is Johan Ackerman, so you’ll become Mikasa Ackerman, his daughter.”

“But not really.”

“Not by blood, at least, but that depends. Are you nervous?”

“A little.”

She squeezed Mikasa’s hand. “Don’t worry. Johan is a kind man. He’ll always take care of you.”

“Does he have a title like huling anino?”

“He does. It’s ‘talim.’”

“What about you?”

“Unang talim.”

Mikasa looked at her, brows low. “What’s the difference between ‘blade’ and ‘first blade’?”

“I still take assignments in between teaching new assassins, and I’m the highest ranked. Johan is going to be a stationary teacher—he won’t take field assignments now that he’s taking care of you.”

“Are you going to be my teacher, too?”

“Mm hmm. Once we’re a little further out on the road, I’ll show you the proper care of a blade.”

Mikasa looked at the road. She asked, “So we all kill people for a living?”

“That’s correct. Does it bother you?”

“No. I just wanted to know.”

Kailas chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”

————

It was the first of many meetings in her life done in the dead of night. They reached Xenten a month later, and Kailas, smiling, told her to be quiet. In darkness bereft of the moon, she carried Mikasa on her back up and over the walls around the perimeter of the Ackerman estate. All ease and grace, she scaled the manor itself, keeping low on the roof until she spotted the light of a fire spilling onto a balcony.

“Very quiet now,” she whispered, and she dropped into the shadows on the balcony without so much as a rustle of their clothes. She waited, standing only when she heard nothing. Footfalls utterly silent, she walked through the open doors and into the room. It was large, more stately than the personal rooms at the compound, but just as inviting. Mikasa’s eyes went straight to the bookcases.

“Have you been waiting long for us to arrive?” Kailas asked.

“A few days,” a man said. Mikasa turned in time to see him standing from an armchair facing the fire. He stretched, groaning, and set his book down. He spotted Mikasa over Kailas’s shoulder and smiled.

“Am I right to think that you’re eighteen-oh-two?” he asked.

Kailas crouched to let her down, and she went to the man to offer her hand. The man knelt down to shake.

“I’m seventeen eighty-one,” he said. “‘Johan’ is fine, but ‘Father’ is going to be best if you can call me that.”

“I’m Mikasa,” she replied. She looked up when she noticed Kailas peering at them.

“Maybe I should have brought her in with me in the daylight,” she said. “She looks enough like you that people could gossip about _us_. If they don’t already.”

Johan laughed. “You could spend the night and leave in the morning if you want to spin it that way.”

“I can’t stay that long,” Kailas said. “It’s been a while since I stayed at the Arav house, and they’re worried about me.” She tapped Mikasa’s nose. “I’ll visit soon enough. You’re learning too quickly for one teacher to keep up with.”

“Meaning?” Johan asked.

“She hit the knot of a tree at _my_ eye level from ten of _my_ paces with a knife, and that was just after twelve days of watching me practice.”

“ _Well_. And you’re five right now?”

“Yes—Father.”

He patted her gently on the back. “Well done. All right, say goodbye for now and I’ll find you a snack before bed.”

“Goodbye,” Mikasa said to Kailas, holding up a hand to wave.

“Until we meet again,” Kailas said, and she slipped out onto the balcony and into the night. Mikasa turned to Johan, looking at him closely. His hair and the stubble on his face were solid black, and his eyes deeply gray. He was broad and well-muscled, but extremely balanced on the balls of his bare feet.

“Huling anino explained everything in her letters,” he said. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me right now?”

“Do I get to read all these books?”

“Of course. They’re property of the Ackerman house, and you are an Ackerman now.”

She opened her mouth, but hiccuped when her stomach rumbled.

“Come on—one snack before bed.” He stood and gave her his hand. “What else, little musang?”

She looked at him curiously. “‘Musang’?”

“It means ‘tiger’ in Pardian. I thought it would be a good thing to call you.”

“Why?”

He smiled and began to lead her out of the room. “The Ackerman house is the house of the crimson tiger. We are a house of nobility, and the crimson tiger is our emblem. The crimson color represents our courage, and the tiger represents our ferocity and strength. Based on what I just learned, ‘musang’ seems correct for you.”

“Oh.” She took his help on the steps in the dark. “What does being part of a house of nobility mean?”

“We’re afforded respect and status here in Sina. It’s not the highest rank—I’m a count, and you’ll be a viscountess. But we can travel without any questioning or special papers, which will help you when you take assignments. We also have a cover story with this house.”

“What story?”

He led her to the kitchen, taking her to the fireplace so he could build light to see with. “House Ackerman is a house of warriors. It’s a very good cover for raising and training assassins. My father—my real father, fifteen seventy-four—said that he was the seventh heir to the Ackerman name, but I was the first true born heir.” He smiled when the fire grew strong enough to light the room. “There we are. Anything you want from the pantry.”

She looked about for a time before finding a sweet roll and bringing it back. She ate in front of the fire, standing next to him without tension.

“What would you like to learn first?” he asked.

“How to be a noble.”

He chuckled. “All right. We’ll do that and mix in physical training starting the day after tomorrow. We need to get you settled into the house first. Does that sound good?”

Mikasa nodded, but yawned before she could put the last piece of the roll in her mouth.

“Still a little girl,” he said, tenderness growing in his voice. He let her eat the last piece before picking her up. “I’ll sleep in my chair tonight so you can have the bed. We’ll get you all squared away tomorrow.”

Mikasa nodded, and she had fallen asleep by the time they were back upstairs.

————

_“You sent me to kill **children** , you bastard. There’s no explanation you could give me to stay al—”_

_“There, that’s better. I hope you have a wonderful stay in Utgard, eighteen-oh-two. There’s a cell with your number on it, you know.”_

————

“Go on!” Johan said with a laugh.

Mikasa knew why she was hesitating, but it did not make her any more willing to move forward. It was not that Kailas was still head and shoulders taller than her, with more than a decade of experience in the field. It was because it was Kailas, always so quick to smile as a friend. They circled each other a moment longer before Mikasa sighed at herself and rushed forward. Her speed made Kailas try to slip away, but Mikasa knew how to keep pace with her after so much practice. She slammed a kick into Kailas’s right side, hard as she could.

Kailas went pale, but grabbed her leg before she could retreat. She heaved Mikasa up and off the ground completely, slamming her down on her back. Gasping for breath, Kailas limped away to where Johan sat laughing in a chair. She weakly kicked his shin.

“You little bastard,” she wheezed. “You never said she’d gotten _this_ strong in five months. _Ow_.”

Mikasa sat up despite the lights in her eyes. “Unang talim, are you all right?”

“Not at this second,” Kailas said. She grunted as she lay down in a lounge chair. Cautiously, she felt her right side and sighed. “You broke three of my ribs with one kick. Dammit.”

Johan laughed again. “I told you not to underestimate her!”

“Go to hell,” Kailas muttered. “There hasn’t been someone _this_ strong at age twelve since…oh, dammit all.”

“Since _you_ , Arav,” Johan said, smirking. “Huling anino chose the right teacher for her, just like she always does.”

She waved a hand at him. “You’re still finding me padded armor for my sides, Ackerman. Hova hates when I come home injured.”

“Who’s Hova?” Mikasa asked, moving to sit with them.

“A woman I met in Tagum, the city where the Arav house is in Pardus. It was four months ago now, and while she’s been very sweet and understanding, she _hates_ when I’m injured. It’s very distressing to see your lover upset.”

“We can have lovers?” Mikasa asked.

“Of course,” said Johan.

“Then why aren’t you with anyone? A lot of women in Xenten seem like they like you.”

He chuckled. “Because I’m not interested in _anyone_ as a lover. I’m happy you’re my little musang, but I don’t need anyone to be your mother or a second father.”

“Oh.”

“You’re still very young,” Kailas said. “The most you need to worry about right now is how to make a clean getaway. And to avoid breaking any of my bones when we spar.”

“I’m sorry,” Mikasa said. When Johan took her through forms for Kailas to critique, she was not distracted.

————

_“Tatay, why did Mister Hannes look upset?”_

_“You’re ten years old, Mikasa. He’s only a normal man—normal children don’t need live blades for practice. He worries about you.”_

_“But he doesn’t have to. I’m fine.”_

_His large warm hand patted her head gently, just as any father’s would._

_“I know you are. You are an Ackerman until your final days. Here is where you’re home, and here is where you’re safe.”_

————

She was fifteen, nearly sixteen and it was the middle of autumn. Johan was giving her a rest day, letting her go into the city with a few silver coins to buy new books for the library. She did not linger, heading home through the wind and the flecks of rain with the books wrapped up tightly under her red coat. It was raining properly when she arrived, and she ran from the gate to the door to keep from getting soaked. The servant at the door took her coat to hang dry.

“Your father is in the parlor with the Lady Arav, young miss,” he told her. “He said to send you in when you came home.”

“Thank you,” she said, nodding to him. She headed to the parlor with the books under her arm, knocking on the doorframe when she arrived.

“Come in,” Johan called to her. “Close the door behind you.”

She stepped inside, flicking the lock on the door for good measure. She bowed to Kailas, who sat in a chair opposite Johan. “Hello, unang talim.”

Kailas lifted a hand. “It’s been a little bit.”

“Did you avoid the rain?” Mikasa asked.

“I did, but I’m not going to stay here for much longer.”

“Why? I don’t need to have a full rest day.”

Johan chuckled. “I told you she’d say that.”

“And that’s all I needed to hear,” Kailas replied. She tossed a small box to Johan, sitting back with a smile.

Johan sat forward. “Mikasa, come here and give me your right hand.”

She set the books on a different chair and went to him. She let him push up her sleeve and look at the scars she had gained in sparring and practice.

He smiled and patted her wrist. “You’ve proven yourself as a prodigy over and over since arriving home. You were _meant_ to be part of Uncia, and I am glad to present you with this.” He opened the box, revealing a gold ring with a four-pointed ruby. He slid the ring onto her right middle finger, saying, “You are anino, eighteen-oh-two. You are a full-fledged assassin. You’re now free to take assignments and travel anywhere in the world.”

Mikasa stared at the ring.

Johan tapped her nose. “May Banal na Kapalaran have its eye on your back wherever you go, little musang.”

She looked at him. “Divine fortune?”

“Better than to be a vessel for Banal na Ganti,” Kailas said. “Vengeance is tiring, and you have good things ahead of you.”

Mikasa looked at the ring again. She smiled.

————

_Her first assignment sent her toward the north, accompanied by Kailas for safety. It was a few days after her sixteenth birthday, and she went to kill a noble on the payment of a rival noble’s son. She cut the man’s throat in his sleep, keeping him facedown in his bed to hide the blood in the rich satin sheets. She upturned the room, taking a pouch of jewels as a cover._

_“Very well done,” said Kailas as they slipped into the night. “You won’t need a chaperone on any other assignment.”_

_Mikasa nodded, and they went their separate ways before the stars faded in the sunrise. When she found a quiet moment alone, Mikasa examined the jewels she had taken, and decided that she liked the blue gemstones the most. Deeply blue, speckled with golden-green and white to catch the sunrise. It made her heart stop from the beauty of it, and she went home with a smile on her face._

————

Five years into work saw her named as unang anino. She was given her pick of assignments, always receiving the first off for expensive, difficult, or dangerous tasks. Though she would check in with Johan every few months and with 1005 twice a year, Mikasa picked her jobs to go anywhere that caught her eye. A job from House Schreiber, the royal house of black wolves, took her far north in Úlfurheim. Feuding principalities brought her to Pardus, but she did not stay for any visits.

The most common type of job for all of Uncia’s active assassins were those from people trying to escape their place. She took jobs all throughout Sina, Pardus, Úlfurheim, and Liūtas from women trying to leave their husbands or lovers, or clusters of slaves or their families that had gathered just enough money to court Uncia’s services. They were simple enough tasks, and she took only half of the offered price to give the requesters funds to complete an escape.

More than once, Mikasa found herself receiving a kiss from the women who hired her when she reported the job was completed. Most women looked intensely flustered over what they’d done, apologizing up and down until Mikasa told them it was all right. It happened with a young Sina noblewoman, but her blush only intensified when Mikasa reassured her.

“I don’t suppose you’re like me, then?” the woman asked.

Mikasa raised a brow.

“Did…did you like that?”

“Yes. Why?”

The woman moved closer to her. She swallowed and put her hands on Mikasa’s faces. “Can I kiss you again?”

“In lieu of paying me?”

“No, just to kiss you.”

She nodded, and then leaned in to kiss the woman before she could blush any more intensely. The woman let out a muffled whine against her lips, closing her hands in the fabric of Mikasa’s shirt. Mikasa stayed through the evening, but left well before the sun rose. The woman, curled up bare beneath her sheets, smiled and thanked her as she left. Mikasa did the same, going through the next day with an ache in her muscles she was unused to.

It was not something she did frequently after that, but enough to know what she was doing during future encounters. No one asked her to stay longer, and she never asked to stay. They were dalliances, and that did not bother her. By the time she was twenty-five, Mikasa had decided hers was a good life.

————

_She was shown into 1005’s office, kneeling on one knee immediately. “You summoned me for a job, huling anino?”_

_1005 stood from her desk chair, gesturing for Mikasa to stand. There was silver in her brown hair now, twenty years on, but she commanded no less respect. She held out an open letter with its wax seal still intact. Mikasa took it, looking at the eagle in flight on the seal._

_“Have you been keeping up on news in Liūtas?” 1005 asked._

_“Not in detail. I thought Kaiser Leonhardt doesn’t request jobs from us, and it didn’t seem like anything happening would require assassinations.” She considered the seal again. “But this isn’t the Leonhardt seal **or** the Raugraves seal. Isn’t Raugraves the one interacting with the Leonhardt family?”_

_“It’s the Reiss house seal,” 1005 said._

_“ **Reiss**?” Mikasa asked. “The true royal house?”_

_“The one and only.” She gestured at the envelope. Mikasa took the letter from within, finding it was only one page, folded neatly in half._

_“‘Destroy Liūtas’ sun,’” she read along. “‘Ensure her sister dies as well. The rest of the empire will fall soon after.’” She checked the back of the paper, finding nothing. “Rather to the point.”_

_1005 shrugged one shoulder, lifting a hand. “Nobles. You understand who your main target is?”_

_“The fürstin, Annie Leonhardt, yes?”_

_“Precisely. We have very little information about her or her sister, aside from which room in the castle is theirs.”_

_“What were we offered in exchange for so little information?”_

_“Three hundred thousand gold coins. Half of which was paid up front.”_

_Mikasa stared at her. “Have we ever received an offer **that** high?”_

_“No. It’s why I’m giving it to you first. Will you take the job?”_

_Mikasa handed the letter back. “Why **wouldn’t** I?”_

————

She knew exactly where she was going and when. She waited for patrols to pass by before climbing over the defensive wall. One eye was kept on a window some floors up, open to catch the warmer air of spring’s end. With the clouds moving away from the bright moon with the wind, she climbed up to the window as quickly as she could. Once inside, she looked back outside. There were no guards visible on the ground, even when the moon came out from behind the clouds. She checked her half-mask, drew two knives from her belt, and turned.

Mikasa froze. Her mouth opened behind the mask. In the bed before her were two blonde girls. While the closer girl was older, they were still children. Children sleeping fretfully, looking scared even in their dreams. She inhaled as a breeze came in behind her.

The girl facing her stirred, and then opened her eyes slowly. Her eyes were so very, very blue, catching the moonlight in faintly green-gold flecks. Mikasa had never known such shame in her life, and she stopped breathing. The girl flinched when she saw Mikasa, cowering and moving back to guard the other girl. Mikasa choked at this, and shook her head when the girl began to cry. Her own eyes welled over.

“I c-can’t,” she whispered. “I didn’t—know. Not children. N-not children.” She fell to her knees, hands going limp to drop her knives. Inhaling weakly, she lifted her hands to hide her face. “I won’t. Please f-forgive me.”

The girl’s voice was fearful and confused in equal measure when she asked, “You’re…not going to kill us?”

“ _No_. I won’t. I _swear_ —I swear I’ll keep you safe.” She looked up, seeing both girls looking at her with those blue eyes. She stared back, but soon swallowed, dried her face, and pulled her mask down.

“Who’re you?” the smaller girl asked, holding the other’s sleeping dress.

“I’m—I don’t have a name,” she said on reflex. When the smaller girl flinched and tried to hide behind the other, Mikasa said, “You can call me ‘Mikasa.’ I picked it for myself.”

“What do we do now?” the older girl asked.

“We run. I’m going to take you somewhere safe, and then I’ll make sure this never happens to you again.” She put her knives away and stood, feeling resolve fill her muscles. “Hurry now—get dressed and packed for travel.”

“But why can’t we go to Mama and Kaiser Matvey?” the younger girl asked. “They won’t let us get hurt. Annie, why?”

Mikasa faltered, but Annie turned about without hesitation.

“Historia,” she said gently. “Something very bad is going to happen to Liūtas soon. Father told me so. He said we need to be safe, even if it’s not with him and Mother. We need to go, okay?”

Historia nodded slightly, looking not at all reassured.

Mikasa went to them, kneeling down next to the bed. “You’ll be in safe hands with me. I promise.”

“Who are you to say that?” Annie asked.

“The best assassin in the world, your highness,” Mikasa said. “Now please— _quickly_.”

Annie nodded, helping Historia out of bed. She went around the room quickly, fetching a worn kitbag. Mikasa stayed near the door, listening for any sound in the hallways behind. She looked at the girls every so often to check on their progress, eyes falling on an open box on a table during the last check. Within it was a golden crown, adorned with jewels and carvings of lionesses. She hesitated, looking at the door.

“Forgive me, your majesty,” she whispered. She closed the box and took it to be added to the kitbag. Annie and Historia were dressed in clothes that were slightly wrinkled, the knees of their trousers speckled with dirt and grass stains and their shoes more so.

“Are you both ready?” she asked.

Both hesitated. Annie asked, “Could we at least say goodbye?” Before Mikasa could reply, she closed her eyes tightly and took a shaking breath. “I know. Never mind.”

Mikasa felt her heart splinter. She knelt down and put a hand on both of their faces, patting gently until they looked at her.

“I can only ever beg your forgiveness for what I’ve done and what I’ll do,” she said. “But please remember this. You must wait, and hope for all good things. I swear that I’ll keep you safe, no matter what else happens.”

Historia nodded, and Annie held tight to her hand. At Mikasa’s urging, Annie put on the kitbag and climbed onto her back. Mikasa picked Historia up to hold to her chest, heading to the window as the cloud cover returned. She took hold of the rope she’d left secured there.

“If you have to cry,” she whispered, “muffle it as best you can.”

As she started down the rope one-handed, both Annie and Historia hid their faces against her.

———

_It had been over a year since she’d had a migraine. She hadn’t even considered the possibility of one when she secured them a place on a passenger ship leaving Liūtas. It was only when they were in their cabin, a meal ordered for the girls, that she realized that the bottom of her skull felt as though it was being stabbed. She dropped onto one of the two beds, hiding her eyes from any light, and went still._

_She never could have expected what followed. When the meal was delivered, Historia asked the cabin boy to bring back ice if he could, as well as an extra towel or two. She was so charming that the young boy hurried to do as she asked, and Historia thanked him in excess when he had returned. When Annie had closed and locked the door, Historia carried the towels and the bucket of ice to Mikasa._

_“Can I help?” she asked, tugging on Mikasa’s sleeve._

_“If you can,” Mikasa muttered into the bed. She lay still, waiting and trying to remember to breathe._

_“Historia, hang on, your hands are shaking,” Annie said. “Tell me what to do.”_

_“Can you wrap ice up in a towel and hold it really gently against the back of her neck, please?”_

_“I will. Eat something.”_

_Mikasa flinched when the cold, damp towel was settled on the back of her neck, carefully pushed up against the bottom of her skull, but went limp when the pain lessened. After a time, she said, “Your highness, this isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine, so please eat.”_

_“I actually ate breakfast, so shut up.”_

_Mikasa nearly laughed; Historia did it for her. It broke the tension between them, and while they did not share secrets and tell stories over the trip, Annie and Historia went to her first when they had nightmares during the trip. Mikasa did what she could to soothe them, and by the last night they were all piled into one bed to try to ward off the dreams._

————

By the time they reached Xenten three weeks on, Mikasa wasn’t sure either Annie or Historia would ever look rested again. She carried them in the dark along the edge of the coast, looking for any light at the Ackerman estate. When she caught sight of a tall, lit torch outside on the veranda, she nearly wept. There was no sound to be heard on her approach, but she lingered in the courtyard below all the same. After a long while, she quietly called, “Johan?”

“Mikasa? What’s wrong?”

“Are there any staff nearby?”

“No, they’re at a festival in the city. I mean it—what’s wrong? Why’re you hiding?”

She took a deep breath and went up the stairs into the pool of light from the torch. Johan stared, mouth open, before standing from his chair and beckoning for Mikasa to follow. He picked up a lantern as he went, bringing Mikasa and the girls to the parlor.

“What on earth happened?” he asked in a whisper, locking all the doors.

“I couldn’t kill them,” Mikasa replied, setting Annie and Historia in a large armchair. “Johan, they’re _children_ , I _couldn’t_ —”

He took her shoulders and squeezed hard. “Tell me what happened first. Sit down and explain slowly.”

Mikasa looked about, but her knees buckled before she could pick a chair. She locked them just long enough to sit down on the floor in front of the girls. She realized she was shaking.

“All right, two good breaths,” Johan said, sitting with her. “Who are these two girls?”

“A-Annie Leonhardt and her sister, Historia,” Mikasa said. “I took the Liūtas assignment—they were my target. Johan, I couldn’t do it. I won’t kill children.”

“That’s fine,” Johan said, patting her cheek. “Just calm down. No one’s going to tell to kill them.”

“Johan.”

“What?”

“Please let them stay here and hide. Keep them safe.”

He opened his mouth, but said nothing as his brows came together.”

Mikasa bowed her head and whispered, “Tatay, _please_. At least until I come back. I need to fix this. I need to protect them.”

Johan closed his mouth. He sighed softly and put his forehead to hers. “You haven’t called me ‘Papa’ for a long time, little musang.” He stroked her hair with tenderness built over years. “Here is where you’re home, and here is where you’re safe. The same will be true for them. I promise.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” she choked.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked.

“Confront the person who sent the job.”

“That’s risky for anyone on their own, even you.”

“I’ll be fine. I can’t ask for help anyway…I shouldn’t be confronting a client like this. But—I can’t let it slide.”

“Are you going to tell me who you’re going to, at least?”

“Tatay…if something happens to me, I don’t want any of you to know. I don’t want them to become vessels for Banal na Ganti. Not when they’re so young. _Untrained_. And you have to stay with them—give them a good life.”

He frowned. “You sound like you’re going in willing to die.”

“I’m not, but I’m the best person to do this alone, and that’s what they need.” She rubbed at her aching eyes. “What day is it?”

“May twenty-second.

“And you still have my ring?”

“In the bookcase.”

“All right.” She slowly turned, getting on one knee to look at Annie and Historia. They were both half-asleep, but managed to open their eyes when Mikasa set her hands on their cheeks.

“Listen closely,” she said. “I’m going to go fix this. It might take a little while because I have to go somewhere far away. But it’s May twenty-second, so you can start counting from that. Johan will take care of you until I come back.”

For the very first time, Mikasa saw Annie’s eyes fill with tears. She took hold of Mikasa’s hand, clutching with desperation.

“You’re—leaving?” Annie asked, choking on her words.

“I _will_ come back,” Mikasa said. “No matter what, I’m going to come back.”

Historia shook her head, crying openly. “P-please don’t go! You have to stay with us! I’m scared—you have to stay!”

Mikasa pulled them both into a tight hug. “I have to leave. I have to keep you safe. I promise both of you that no matter what, _I’ll come home_. I’ll come back. Do your best to keep from crying.” She leaned back, letting go. She wiped away their tears.

“Remember what I told you before?” she asked.

They nodded, holding her hands.

“Wait,” Mikasa said, “and hope for all good things. I will come back. As soon as I can, I swear. Stay safe, and try to be happy.” She hugged them once more before standing.

“Be careful,” Johan said, hugging her as well. “You have a promise to keep, and you never break your promises.”

“I know. I’ll be fine.” They let go, and she lifted a hand in parting before rushing back into the night.

———

When she found Rhode Reiss awake and sitting, staring with focus at the window she opened, Mikasa knew she should not have pressed on. The fury was too frigid in her body, filling up the empty places that exhaustion had left behind, and she could not stop. She stepped into the room and closed the window.

“Eighteen-oh-two, I assume?” Reiss asked, smirking.

She stopped in the middle of the room to examine him. He was leaving his youth, still holding onto a measure of handsomeness but gaining weight and lines on his face. She stared, cold and vicious enough that his smirk fell.

“You know damned well who I am,” she said. “How dare you send that contract to us?”

He managed to laugh. “How dare _I_? _I_ do whatever pleases me. How dare a tiny murderous ant like _you_ question me?”

“No one may murder children,” Mikasa spat. “Nor may they pay to have them killed and force that sin on another. You cowardly _scum_.”

He scowled. “You think you have the right to call me scum? _You_ , death-whore, would call the son of God _scum_?”

“You are scum, whatever you choose to call yourself,” Mikasa shot back. “Why children?”

“Why the hell do you care?”

“Because I want the reason.” She drew a knife from her belt, feeling her skin prickle with what felt like anger. “Talk.”

He looked at her with a tilted head. “You want an explanation? What, to expose me and force me to deal with the shame of it?”

“You sent me to kill _children_ , you bastard. There’s no explanation you could give me to stay al—”

She recognized the sensation in her skin too late. Someone was behind her, and they grabbed the back of her shirt, high on her back and twisting hard to choke her. Lights filling her eyes, she tried to pull free, to spin about and stab. A knife was plunged into her back on the left side, angled under her ribs. She coughed out the air in her lungs without wanting to, feeling the freeze of the poison on the blade fill her flesh. Muscles failing, she crumpled to her knees, wheezing, and fell onto her right side to hold her left.

“There, that’s better,” said Reiss. He stood up and went to where she lay. “I hope you have a wonderful stay in Utgard, eighteen-oh-two.”

Her eyes filled with tears. Her body would not let her struggle or stop what she knew was coming.

Reiss pulled his leg back, said, “There’s a cell with your number on it, you know,” and knocked her unconscious with a kick to the skull.

————

_The first time she was given the drink, she screamed herself hoarse and snapped the neck of the jailer who brought the next drink. She did not know why. She did not know why she tried over and over to break down her door, the walls around her, the men who tried to break her._

_She did not know why she kept screaming, “I have to go home! Let me out!”_

_She did not know why she wanted to know the date._

_She did not know why she felt such failure._

_She did not know why she broke down sobbing, “Tatay,” time and time again, or what the word even meant._

_She knew almost nothing._

_All she knew was the fact that the Reiss house was loathsome. All she knew was the fact that she had always been called “1802.”_

_And soon she did not know how long “always” was._

————

Mikasa opened her eyes slowly. She looked around. The worktable and shelves full of vials and bottles were something she recognized. She looked down, seeing the straps holding her safely to the chair and recognized them as well. She undid them with her right hand, but did not stand. She slumped where she sat, clutching her legs to hide her face in her knees. Beginning to shake, beginning to cry, she thought about the man that she finally remembered.

“Tatay,” she sobbed. “ _Tatay_. I’m so, so sorry. I wanted to see you so much, and now I—can’t. I’m— _fuck_.” She let herself cry until her eyes had dried out. When she had found the ability to breathe again, she sat up slightly. Closing her eyes, she put her left hand over her heart, and set the fingers of her right hand to her lips.

“Tatay,” she whispered, “mapalad po kayo. Salamat, at pālam na.” She opened her eyes again, taking her hand from her lips and tucking her fingers below her left palm to press against her heart. Her heartbeat was strong, just as his had always been, and she sent her words with it to everything beyond the world. After a time, she was able to think of him smiling and smile in turn. Taking a deep breath, she took to her feet and headed up the stairs.

The trapdoor had been left open for her. Based on the chill in the air, she decided it was night and kept quiet for it. Upon leaving the basement, she searched for any sound or light. One doorway was open a crack, and she heard a small fire and saw its flicking light. The door opened silently when she pushed on it.

A living room was what waited beyond the door, the fire in the hearth still burning gently. Ymir and Historia were settled on a couch together, fast asleep with Ymir holding Historia to her chest. Rico was asleep in an armchair, glasses askew with her head on a throw pillow. Annie was on a chaise lounge, curled up and shivering with her erstwhile blanket on the floor.

Mikasa smiled, spine relaxing. She wiped off her face with her sleeve before taking off her coat. Moving silently, she went to Annie and draped her coat gently over her. Annie stirred, opening her eyes. When she recognized Mikasa, she jumped and sat up, making the coat fall to the floor.

“Shh,” Mikasa whispered, setting the coat around Annie’s shoulders again. “I don’t want to wake anyone.”

“Are you all right?” Annie asked. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“I have. It’s all right.”

“You’ve been asleep for a day and a half,” Annie said. She reached out to touch Mikasa’s face, but hesitated. “Did…did it work?”

Mikasa smiled, taking Annie’s hand to hold to her cheek. “Did you know that you barely grew three inches between when I left and when I came home? You’ve always been very short, Leon-Hiyas.”

She gaped, putting her other hand on Mikasa’s other cheek. “Löwengöttin be praised, it worked.” She smiled, somewhere between disbelieving and joyous. “It _worked_. You remember everything?”

“As much as is normal for remembering a life. I remember that Johan really was my father, though not by birth. No wonder I brought you straight to him.” She moved to sit next to Annie, bringing the blanket with her to wrap it around both of them. “And I remember the reason why you were so upset with me when I finally came home. I’m so sorry it took as long as it did.”

“You already said that, so shut up.”

Mikasa went still, and then choked on laughter. “Do—do you remember when we came from Liūas? That time on the ship when I had a migraine?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I told you that you didn’t have to help me and that you should eat. And you said—”

“‘I actually ate breakfast, so shut up,’” Annie said, eyes wide. She leaned against Mikasa, pulling her arm around her shoulders to hold. “You really do remember.”

Mikasa turned Annie’s head toward her to kiss her for a long moment. When she pulled away, she said, “It did. And I propose we rent a home in Mitras as soon as we can—for the four of us and servants.”

“Wha—why the capitol?”

“Because that’s where it’ll be best to destroy Rhode Reiss. And where better for a true royal to live?”

“Wait, do you have a plan already?”

She chuckled. “Not quite yet. But soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phrases and titles are in Filipino (or at least what google translate tells me), and the "untranslated" phrases are as thus:
> 
> Papuri sa anino: praise to shadow  
> Tapang sa iyo: courage to you  
> Tatay, mapalad po kayo. Salamat, at pālam na: Papa, blessed art thou. Thank you, and goodbye.
> 
> I am totally willing to be corrected if I am way off the mark.


	7. Requests of a Young Empress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return home feels truer than before with memories restored, and Mikasa finally feels prepared for the reporters waiting to speak to Annie. What she is not entirely prepared for is what Annie asks her when they're alone.
> 
> Annie, in turn, is not entirely prepared for what comes up during the interview. Still, there is a smile on her face at the end of it, and Mikasa takes pleasure in that smile.
> 
> Among other things.

Everything and nothing was new. The words of gratitude she gave to Rico in Pardian were familiar on an unpracticed tongue, and Rico’s reply was music when she had been tone deaf just two days before. The ship and sea were marvels unto themselves, guides to remembering her assignments from years and years ago. When she looked at the rigging, she knew how to scale it in seconds without losing her breath.

The only she did not practice it was Historia’s excitement over her memories returning, so fervent that it made up for any seasick moodiness in Annie and Ymir. When Historia’s eager questions about her previous life made them aware of the time she’d spent in Liūtas and Úlfurheim, they sat up in their beds.

“Why were you in Úlfurheim?” Ymir asked.

“House Schreiber contacted me to protect its princess before her coronation,” Mikasa replied. “Is she still alive? Her family was very kind.”

Ymir grinned, disbelief tied up in happiness. “She is, yeah! We all love her! Lady above, I can’t believe we owe you for her life!”

“Did you ever take jobs from my father?” Annie asked quietly.

“No, he never contacted Uncia. He was far more direct about confronting his enemies or trying to reach a peaceful solution. I was in Liūtas to deal with feuding nobles, or to train with longsword masters.” She frowned slightly when Annie hiccuped and put her hand to her mouth, looking green. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking off her coat.

“Lie down, Leon-Hiyas,” she said. “We’ll be home soon enough.” When Annie had settled, she lay her coat over her. She ran a thumb lightly over Annie’s brow. “And back to your true home soon after that.”

Annie smiled at her, relaxing and closing her eyes. Ymir settled as well when she fought down her queasiness, Historia sitting with her to rub her nearest shoulder. They managed to drift to sleep, the rocking of the ship finally soothing. Mikasa and Historia remained awake, sitting up to watch over them.

Mikasa kept any touches featherlight, faint brushes of her fingers to Annie’s face and hair. Her chest ached at the way Annie still smiled in her sleep; she smiled to match without realizing it.

“Mikasa?” Historia whispered.

She turned. “Yes?”

“Annie’s been so worried about you,” she said. “When you came home and you didn’t remember…she was scared that she really _had_ lost you.”

Her smile lessened. “Did you feel the same way?”

“Yes,” Historia admitted. “It was worse than thinking you were dead.” She shook herself. “But when we saw you were still _our_ Mikasa, just without your memories right then, it was…a little better. It was okay.” She chuckled. “But we’re both glad you finally know who we are. Who _you_ are.”

“As am I,” Mikasa said. She turned back to Annie, tucking a loose strand of gold hair behind her ear. “I was so lucky to have come back.” Her smile widened when Annie turned toward her hand.

Historia saw, and she smiled. “Mikasa?”

“Yes?”

“You really care about Annie.”

“I do.”

“How much?”

Mikasa turned to look at her again. There was playful curiosity in her eyes, her smile tinging toward cheeky. Mikasa chuckled.

“There’s a word in Pardian,” she said, “called ‘mahal.’ Something or someone that is mahal is beloved. They are someone’s darling. Their love.” She lowered her voice. “That is what I feel for Annie. She is my lion-gem, my beloved. I don’t think I could thank Banal na Kapalaran enough for bringing me home to her.”

Historia’s smile softened. “You should tell her that. It’d made her really happy.”

“I will. Soon.”

“Good,” Historia said. She lay down carefully, minding Ymir. “Because she’d like to have you to rely on in Mitras if someone tries to court her.”

Mikasa bristled at the thought, but felt her face flush when Historia grinned at her. She sighed, rubbed her eyes, and got into bed behind Annie. Annie mumbled sound when Mikasa pulled the blanket over them, sighing once Mikasa had settled. Burning cheeks aside, Mikasa leaned in to kiss Annie’s hair gently. Annie turned toward her, and Mikasa held her close through the night.

————

Eren was waiting at the docks for them when the ship arrived, all but bouncing on the balls of his feet when he spotted them on the deck. He kept himself from running up the gangplank, but he could not quite hold back his curious staring.

Mikasa ignored him briefly to bow to Levi. “My thanks, Captain. We will expect your return within the next two months, as discussed.”

“Take care of the tiny empress,” Levi muttered. “Erwin will kill you otherwise.”

Historia giggled as she hugged Hanji and Petra goodbye. “We’re in safe hands. Bring Commander Erwin as soon as you can!”

“He’ll be overjoyed to see you,” Petra said, hugging Annie as well.

“Off you go,” Hanji said, hugging Annie tight. “We’ll see you soon enough.”

Mikasa bowed again before giving Annie her arm and leading them all off the ship. Eren looked at her nervously, twisting his fingers before cramming his hands into his pockets to stop.

“So,” he said, “uh, how was your trip?”

“Very enlightening,” Mikasa said with a smile. “Just as all of us had hoped.”

His nerves vanished as he smiled, mouth opening. He coughed into his fist, bringing his smile down to avoid drawing attention. “Then let’s go tell Armin the good news!”

Her smile grew even warmer. “Let’s.” Once they had started off, she asked, “Has everything been all right while we were away?”

“Uh. About that.”

“What did you do to our home?” Annie asked, brows low.

“Nothing, honest! Bert and Reiner just…uh…have been needing to turn away a lot of reporters.”

They all stared at him. Ymir said, “Beg pardon?”

“For Annie. Well, her and Mikasa. Reiner makes them run by threatening to break their cameras.”

Annie put a hand to her brow. “I’ll tell him to stop.”

“Are you gonna let them interview you?” Ymir asked, eyes on Mikasa.

“I can agree to that if Annie wants it to happen at all.”

Annie smirked when she took her hand away. “Why _not_ get into the news? It would get through Liūtas even faster than Erwin can manage.”

“Oh, good,” Eren said, shoulders slumping. “They’re getting _really_ insistent.”

“Fine, but I’m getting inside for lunch first,” Ymir said. “I need food now that I won’t barf it up.”

He laughed, but grew quiet when Mikasa touched his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I couldn’t have made it this far without you and Armin.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with an easy smile.

Mikasa returned the smile and rubbed his head, and they returned home in silence. Bertholdt saw them coming and let them pass, hurriedly closing and locking the gate behind them.

“No one yet today,” he said, “but hurry inside all the same, miladies.”

“By our lady, is it that bad?” Ymir asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “Go on—quickly.”

After one last glance at him, they went inside. Armin was pacing in the foyer, looking both pensive and distraught. He jumped at the sound of their footsteps, stopping immediately and staring at Mikasa with wide eyes. She smiled at him.

“Do you remember what we toasted to on our journey here?” she asked.

“To uncovering the truth,” he said.

“That I would be able to lay all your fears to rest,” she continued. “And that is what I’ve managed. I have a plan, if I could have your hel—”

He ran to her, hugging her fiercely. “It worked!”

She patted his back as best she could with her arms pinned. “It did. I know our enemy.”

He let go to look at her when he asked, “Who?”

“Historia’s father,” Mikasa said. “The real king of Sina. If we play our cards right, we may be able to get him to kill himself.”

“What?” Historia said.

Mikasa went still, and then looked at her. “Unless you don’t wish that on him.”

“I’m all for it, but you haven’t brought up your plan until now,” Historia said. “How would you get him to do that?”

“Help the world learn of the misdeeds he and his house have done as we work to restore Annie in Liūtas. I don’t know if he’s still as shameless as when I met him, but I doubt he’ll enjoy what I’ll do to his little kingdom.”

Annie snickered. “You’re charming when you’re ruthless.”

“Flatterer. Let’s have something to eat before any reporters come.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Ymir said, taking Historia’s hand.

Mikasa chuckled, but suddenly froze.

Annie, hand caught in hers, stopped as well. “What’s wrong?”

“My father,” Mikasa said quietly. “Where…where did you lay him to rest?”

Historia and Ymir froze as well, looking at each other. Voice gentle, Ymir said, “There’s an oak tree on its own on the west side of the manor. We buried him there.”

“I see,” Mikasa said. She let go of Annie’s hand, turning away. “You go and eat. I’ll be along.”

Eren tried to speak, but Annie held up a hand and shooed him toward the kitchen. Mikasa smiled at her before heading outside. She went around the back to stay out of sight, chest growing tight when she spotted the tree. When she spotted the gravestone nearby, bitterness filled her mouth. Careful to keep her feet away from the grave, she sat down near the stone.

“Hi, tatay,” Mikasa whispered, pulling her legs to her chest. “I’m sorry I missed you.”

The ground was warm from the sun high above, even with the tree providing shade. The engravings on the stone were without so much as a smudge, and an empty glass vase for flowers was held steady in a metal stand next to the stone. It was empty at the moment, but she smiled nonetheless. After a time, she steeled herself to read the engravings.

_Johan Ackerman_  
April 18 1761 — November 7 1834  
A Proud Father Rests Here 

She stared, mouth half open. She closed it when she realized she had started to cry. Rubbing at her cheeks, she laughed softly. “Thank you, tatay. I needed that.” She dried her face completely, looking at the grave with a smile.

“Almost two years ago,” Mikasa said. “I missed so much.” A floating thought made her breathe laughter. “I remember you teaching me how to climb, tatay. How I only slipped once, but you never let me fall. And how sweet you were whenever I was little and I cut myself on a blade. All your rhymes you told me were spells to banish pain—the way you taught me to deal with migraines.”

She chuckled. “And I remember the very first time I had a nightmare after I came here. You had such amazing hearing and you heard me crying in my room. You sang me a lullaby in Pardian. That’s when I knew you were my tatay. I was so lucky to have you.”

She rested her chin on her knees. “I still can’t believe you loved me enough to take Annie and Historia in with no warning, or even an explanation. I owe you _everything_ , tatay.” She sat watching the stone a few moments longer. Still smiling, she kissed the first two fingers of her left hand and touched his name.

“We’ll all bring flowers soon,” she murmured. “Rest well.” She stood slowly, lingering a few seconds to look toward the sea before heading to the courtyard to go inside. It seemed like she had only found the others in the kitchen and a bowl of strawberries to eat when Reiner arrived. There was pointed irritation in how his brow furrowed, and he walked in with his arms crossed. Ymir stared at him in baffled horror, lowering her sandwich from her mouth.

“Come _on_!” she said. “We just got home!”

“And someone on the docks _blabbed_ about it,” he shot back. He bowed to Annie. “There’s five reporters at the gate to speak to you and the countess.”

“Any with cameras?” Mikasa asked.

“Two.”

She sighed, but looked to Annie.

“That’s fine,” Annie said. “I want people to know who you are and that you’re with me. Even if we recognized you, it doesn’t mean that Reiss will. Besides, he wouldn’t know your name, would he?”

“Only my number,” Mikasa said. She ate a strawberry as she thought. “Well…I would think the order of litgas for you and Historia is in place now. He couldn’t hire anyone _skilled_ , anymore.”

“And it would terrify him if he _did_ recognize you,” Historia said. “I think that alone would be worth it.”

She ate another strawberry to gain more time to think. “And it would look very strange to be included in an interview but not be in the photo. All right. Reiner, tell them we’ll meet with them in the courtyard in forty-five minutes so we can eat and clean up.”

He nodded, bowing to her and to Annie before leaving them to their late lunch. Mikasa looked at the floor while she ate, thinking of nothing in particular until Annie moved to stand next to her.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Annie asked. “Or is there a rule that you can’t have your picture taken?”

“It’s all right,” Mikasa said. “It’s difficult to avoid, and what we’re after requires it. But I don’t think there _is_ a photo of me in the world.”

“You should ask for a copy!” Historia said. “One of you and Annie!”

Mikasa looked at Annie as Annie looked at her. Annie smiled and said, “That would be nice.”

Ymir rolled her eyes even as she smirked. “You two are hopeless.” She stood from sitting on a work stool, putting her plate in the large sink. “Well, since they don’t want me, I’m gonna clean up and nap. Want in on that, Historia?”

“Absolutely,” Historia said, and she went with Ymir after putting her plate away. Armin gestured to Eren, both of them leaving in short order. Mikasa stared after them, brow raised at the doorway.

“You should eat something else,” Annie said. “It won’t be fun to do this if you have a migraine.”

She hummed softly and headed for the pantry. There was no surprise to be had when she knew Annie followed quietly behind her, and she reached out to touch Annie’s nose without looking.

“You seem more worried about this than you’d like to admit, Leon-Hiyas,” she said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I am,” Annie replied. “I want people to know I’m alive.”

“They will. You’ve proven that you can handle the questions people ask when they think you’re an imposter. But are you sure you want to be formally interviewed by newspaper reporters?”

“I _am_. I just want to know that I can be honest about who you are.”

She chuckled, reaching for a box of crackers on a higher shelf. “Do you mean as the person who rescued you from Liūtas? We can go over how we’ll lie about your mother contacting me.”

Annie sighed. “That’s not it. I want to be honest about the fact that you’re my lover. I want to announce you as my Versprochene.”

Mikasa blinked. She put the box down on a lower shelf and turned. “Your what?”

“Versprochene,” Annie repeated, voice going soft. “It’s…the common phrase here is ‘promised one.’ It’s the word we use in Liūtas for the promised one of the kaiser or kaiserin. The promised…bride.”

Mikasa looked at her a long time. “Did…you just…propose to me?”

Annie looked back, mouth slightly open. After a few seconds, she managed to say, “Yes.” Because Mikasa stared at her, completely silent and looking startled, for a solid thirty seconds, she said, “Say _something_.”

“Yes,” Mikasa said in a rush, voice cracking. “Yes, I—it’s fine to announce me as that. Yes.” She blinked a few times before laughing. “Annie, that may have been the least romantic way you could’ve proposed to me.” She thought, looked toward the rest of the kitchen, and looked at Annie.

“Wait,” she said. “Did you tell everyone to leave us alone before I even arrived? Just so you could ask me?”

“I wasn’t going to do that in front of Ymir or your two idiot boys,” Annie grumbled.

Mikasa smiled and pulled Annie to her, kissing her brow. “My answer would be ‘yes’ either way.” When she let Annie look up, she was startled to find no blush on Annie’s face. Instead, there was great focus in her eyes as she took Mikasa’s scarf in both hands and pulled her down for a kiss.

“Eat something else,” she said when she let Mikasa go. “I’ll be back.” She left the pantry and the kitchen, moving too quickly for Mikasa to call after her. With nothing else to do, Mikasa took the box of crackers with her into the kitchen to eat alone. She paced as she waited, glancing at the door because she was smiling.

Annie returned after a few minutes, holding something tightly in her right hand. She took the box and set it aside, taking Mikasa’s left hand to kiss the knuckle of her ring finger. When she lifted her head, her cheeks were turning pink.

“I,” she said, “um. I’m glad you remember everything now.”

“Would you have proposed if I didn’t remember?”

Annie hesitated. “I…don’t know. A Versprochene has to be able to support her kaiser or kaiserin.”

She raised a brow, head tilted and a small smile on her face. “This is purely political?”

“No, I love you. I just…feel more comfortable naming you Versprochene when you’re not getting sick recovering your memories.”

Mikasa lifted both brows, smile widening. “You just said you love me.”

“I do,” Annie replied easily. “I wouldn’t want to marry you at all if I didn’t.”

She chuckled and leaned down to kiss her. “I forgot how marriage works for the highest nobility.” She touched her lips to Annie’s brow, whispering, “Mahal kita, Annie. I accept.”

Annie looked at her blankly. “‘Mahal kita’?”

“It means ‘I love you’ in Pardian.”

Annie smiled at her, opening her hand and the velvet ring box therein. A silver ring sat inside, and she gingerly slid it onto Mikasa’s left ring finger. The fit was slightly loose, but Mikasa curled her hand before Annie could look embarrassed.

“This will just be for now,” Mikasa said. “We can visit the jewelers later on.”

“Right,” Annie said, cheeks still flushing. “It needs other things to be right, anyway.” She pulled Mikasa down for another kiss before taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen to clean up. Dressed in neat, crisp clothes, they went over their stories before heading downstairs to meet Reiner. He bowed to them before leading them to the courtyard.

Five of the chairs were arranged in a semi-circle around a lounge, occupied by three women and two men. One man and one woman had bulky cameras stationed very carefully at their feet, and all of them held pens and reporter’s notebooks. The woman with the camera had an additional notebook balanced on her camera, and she was already scribbling furiously.

“Her majesty, Annie Leonhardt,” said Reiner as they arrived, “and her reichsgräfin, Mikasa Ackerman.”

The reporters shot to their feet in unison, bowing low. The woman with the camera continued to write as she bowed. Mikasa glanced at Annie, but Annie only raised her brow. The reporters waited until Mikasa and Annie had sat down on the lounge before taking their seats again. For a few seconds, no one spoke.

“We understand that a number of reporters have been asking about us,” Mikasa said. “What would you like to know?”

One man uncapped his pen and held up a hand. “Bernard Michel, Karness Daily, your excellency. Why here, and why now?”

“You mean the announcement about myself?” Annie asked.

“Precisely,” he said, writing while looking at her. “By the accounts of the Xenten citizens, you and Lady Renz have lived here under the name Renz for the last twelve years. Why not reveal yourselves before now to receive the aid of King Raugraves?”

“We did not know who was actually trying to assassinate me when my mother contacted Mikasa. I could not trust anyone with my true identity while I was young.”

“Jan Mirre, Ermich Tribune, your majesty,” a woman said, raising her hand. “You could trust no one but the people in the Ackerman house?”

“Not a soul. Count Johan Ackerman protected us like a father protects his own while we grew up, and some of his final words to me were, ‘wait until Mikasa comes home. She will keep you safe.’”

Bernard raised a brow. “Please excuse my blunt statement, Countess, but your father passed away nearly two years ago now. According to long term residents of Xenten, you hadn’t really been seen in over _fifteen_. Why did it take so long for you to return home?”

Mikasa smiled. “I am not an easy person to track down, Mister Michel. I was in the northern mountains in Úlfurheim by the time _any_ message about Father reached me, and that was a year after he had passed. Once I learned of how long Annie and Christa had been on their own, I came as fast as I could.” She chuckled and looked at Annie with remorse.

“That’s what I get for telling you that the wilds were a poor place to receive your letters, Leon-Hiyas,” she said. “I missed far too much.”

The other man sat forward, lifting a hand. “Phillip Largent, Klorva Review, your excellency. You and her majesty maintained contact over the last twelve years?”

“Of course,” Mikasa said. “Annie was the only person who kept up steady correspondence while I was on the move. It was always a pleasure to find a letter waiting for me one place or another after I let her know where I was going. It kept my spirits up.”

“All of ours,” Annie said.

“Ah, but it seems more for you and the countess,” said Phillip. “Guests from your party reported that you two only had eyes for each other. Could you…elaborate?”

“On?” Annie said.

He opened his mouth, but faltered at the impassiveness in her gaze. “Er. Well…on…on the…um.”

Another woman leaned forward. “On what the countess was doing while away from home, perhaps? Anna Fostin of the Dauper Times, your majesty. I’ve heard that the countess stayed on the road to protect you and Lady Renz—but was that all?”

“Are you asking if I was out looking for enemies of the Leonhardt empire?” Mikasa asked.

“If I may,” Anna replied, pen at the ready.

“It was a large part of my time away, yes. Admittedly, it was difficult due to the large scale fighting that broke out in Liūtas after the kaiser and kaiserin were murdered. I wasn’t able to return to Liūtas for any information for years.” She sighed. “By the time I could, there was very little to go off of.”

“But you found _something_?” the last woman asked. She looked Mikasa in the eye, then Annie, and back again. “Anything at all?”

Mikasa looked at her, seeing blue eyes underscored by exhaustion and brown hair touched with silver. There was an odd desperation in the way she looked at Annie. Mikasa glanced at Annie, waiting until she nodded.

“Yes,” Mikasa said. “I found information indicating that the fall of the Leonhardt family was not orchestrated by Liūtas citizens. Outside parties caused it, and they tried to have Annie killed.”

The woman trembled briefly before writing down notes with even greater fervor. The other reporters did the same, all of them breathless and excited.

“Are you making a formal accusation of anyone?” Bernard asked.

“No, not yet,” Annie said. “We still need concrete information. I will be meeting with Commander Erwin Smith of Liūtas to receive his support and counsel.”

“Will you be asking him to provide _military_ aid?” Phillip asked.

“No,” she repeated. “Only his support and counsel. I need to speak to him before I go to Mitras.”

“Why will you be going to Mitras?” Jan asked.

“I will also speak to King Raugraves,” Annie replied, “in order to gain his support. I want to reclaim the throne and rebuild my country without inciting a war.”

“Will the countess be accompanying you?” Anna asked.

The baffled look on Annie’s face was genuine. “Of course she will. Why would my Versprochene stay here?”

Four of the reporters stared at her blankly, but the last woman gaped. Her hands went limp, dropping her notebook and pen noisily. The others jumped and looked at her; she blushed dark crimson and rushed to pick everything up. After retrieving pen and notebook, she cleared her throat and bowed where she sat. “U-um, p-please excuse my rudeness, your majesty.”

“I say,” Phillip chuckled, “does ‘Versprochene’ mean something special to you?”

The woman held up her hands as her blush worsened. “No, not to _me_! It’s special for her majesty alone!” Because she received only confused stares, she looked down and lowered her voice. “The countess is her intended. I didn’t realize that’s what her ring is for.”

The other reporters stared at her, mouths falling open. Annie stared as well, brows low and eyes wide.

“Who are you?” she asked. “How do you know that?”

The woman looked up, smiling uncertainly. “I’m Dale Auberon, your majesty. International correspondent from Kiel, Liūtas. I, um, got into journalism after reading all the articles about your mother’s naming as Kaiser Matvey’s Versprochene.” Her smile grew stronger. “I was going to return to Kiel in a few days without much news but…thank goodness my ship docks in Xenten.” She cleared her throat again. “M-may I ask when you proposed?”

“Today,” Annie said quietly, “to make it official. I need to get a proper ring, though.”

“You’re not at all…concerned?” Jan asked, her brows furrowed with anxiety. “Your relationship is against church ordination, your majesty, and we would be publishing in our articles in public newspapers.”

Annie frowned, the softness in her voice vanishing. “I am more than happy to abide by Sina law when it comes to public peace. However, I am not bound to follow a foreign church’s law that isn’t upholding anything other than the church’s coin purse. Your church has no sway with me, and I sincerely doubt that the king wants to anger my countrymen by throwing me in jail for being in a relationship with Mikasa when I’ve only just returned to them.”

The reporters fidgeted. Eventually, Bernard asked, “You give us leave to include this in our articles, your majesty?”

“Yes,” Annie replied. To Dale, she said, “And you can take pictures for everyone at home.”

Dale and Phillip looked at each other before Phillip bowed in deference. Dale set her pen and notebooks in her chair, standing with her camera. She considered them for a moment before asking, “Could I have you both standing? And with the sea behind you?”

They stood without arguing, moving to a clear space in the courtyard. Mikasa considered their positions before stepping to Annie’s right side, reaching around with her left hand to hold Annie’s shoulder. Annie smiled at her, blinking at the loud shutter of the camera seconds later. She looked at Dale, who lowered the camera and looked down.

“Excuse me,” she said. “It was a very good shot.”

“It’s all right,” Mikasa said. “As long as we can have one copy for ourselves.”

Dale nodded with a smile as Phillip came along with his camera. They both took a number of photos, asking very politely to get a different pose of some sort. Clouds came in later on, stopping the photos because neither had brought flashbulbs. Phillip went to the other reporters, grinning as they started to hiss price offers for prints. Dale lingered, taking her time in putting the lens cap back on.

“You know,” she said to Annie, “your parents were the very first kaiser and kaiserin to be photographed. Your mother was a very popular subject of photographers and painters—utterly beautiful. And your father was so _proud_ of you…his beloved Sonne-Löwin. Do you remember some of the photos that were taken of you and your family?”

“I do,” Annie said, smiling slightly. “Father was very happy with a photo of us in the flower gardens Mother kept. Even though Mother and I both had dirt on our faces.”

“That’s a favorite of most newspapers,” Dale said. “It’s how I know you’re you. Your eyes—and then the smile you just gave the countess. You’re just as happy with her.” She smiled at Mikasa. “Bless you, your excellency. You have no idea how hard we’ve all prayed for her majesty’s safety—and her return.”

“I could not leave her to such a fate,” Mikasa said, eyes on Annie. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

Dale looked over her shoulder before lowering her voice to a whisper. “Will you be married here in Sina? I’m sure any Liūtan Erzbischof would be honored to come to bless you before Löwengöttin.”

“I want to be home,” Annie replied, voice soft and eyes low. “I want to marry her there and give her my home.”

Mikasa felt her breath leave her, eyes widening. Dale looked as struck as she felt, and she swallowed hard.

“May,” she said, “may I include that in my article for Kiel, your majesty? I think your people would be glad to hear how much you mean to each other.”

“That’s fine,” Annie said, still quiet. She swallowed hard. “And tell them I’m coming home. No matter what.”

“Of course,” she said, bowing again. She opened her mouth to speak, thought better of her words, and said, “I’ll send you a copy of the photo and the article, your majesty. And other articles that come about from this, if you like.”

“I would,” Annie said. She swallowed again. “Could…you also send copies of the photos of my family?”

Dale’s eyes widened. “Yes, your majesty, absolutely.” She opened her mouth again, but closed it to clear her throat quietly. “I’ll take my leave now, your majesty. I’ll see if I can get the others to go with me.”

“Thank you,” Annie said. She did not look up as Dale left, but Reiner caught Mikasa’s nod and started to usher the reporters away. Mikasa put an arm around Annie’s shoulders, leading her up to the veranda and back inside. She waited until Reiner returned.

“No more guests today,” she told him. “That’s enough reporters for now.”

He bowed to her, letting her take Annie upstairs. There was no protest given when Mikasa brought Annie to her personal quarters, nor when she locked the door behind them. She guided Annie to bed, sitting her down before kneeling. She reached up to set her hands on Annie’s cheeks.

“Annie,” she said gently. “You’re crying.”

She swallowed thickly. “They still—believe in me. They want me to c-come _home_.”

Mikasa smiled. “How could they not? You’re Annie Leonhardt, sun of an empire, destined to rise again. Liūtas is where you belong.”

Annie let out a small laugh and smiled. “It is. With you.”

She rubbed her thumbs over Annie’s cheeks, feeling her chest ache in the best way. “Yes, with me. I’ll never leave you again.”

Annie nodded, taking hold of Mikasa’s wrists. “And I won’t leave you.”

Mikasa felt heat fill her fingers. She rose slowly, leaning in to brush her lips against Annie’s cheeks. Annie lay back at the gentlest push to her shoulder, looking up with a smile as Mikasa moved over her on hands and knees.

“I love you,” Mikasa whispered.

“Say it in Pardian again.”

“Mahal kita,” she said. She kissed Annie’s cheek. “Mahal na mahal kita.” She kissed her neck. “Mahal kita mas ma higit pa sa mga bítuin.” She kissed her lips. “Ako ay sa iyo.”

She smiled, reaching up to touch Mikasa’s lips. “What was the rest?”

She chuckled. “I love you so much.” She began to unbutton Annie’s shirt. “I love you more than stars. I am yours.”

Annie caught her by the scarf before she undid the last button. “Ich liebe dich mehr als die Sonne.” She unwound the scarf slowly. “I love you more than the sun.” She tossed the scarf to the baseboard, taking hold of Mikasa’s shirt to make her roll over. “Ich liebe dich mehr als alles andere dieser Welt.” She kissed Mikasa until she was out of breath.

“I love you more than anything in this world,” she said. She put her brow to Mikasa’s. “I really do.” Her eyes closed when Mikasa slipped her hands beneath her loose shirt, fingers following the grooves of her ribs until she reached her back.

“I missed you so much,” Annie whispered. She lay down when Mikasa pressed on her back, burying her face in the curve of Mikasa’s neck. The kisses she set on Mikasa’s skin were soft, at first no warmer than her exhales. They grew heated when Mikasa dragged her nails down the length of her back, digging in at her hips.

A thought made Mikasa smile. She reached between them with one hand to undo the last button on Annie’s shirt, making Annie lift her head soon after.

“What do you still need to do to my ring?” she asked. She ran her fingers up Annie’s stomach slowly, moving toward her chest. “Tell me.”

Annie smirked at her. “Are you saying you didn’t learn that when you were young?”

“I doubt anyone thought I would be engaged to Liūtas’ kaiserin.” She ran her fingernails over the center of Annie’s chest, setting her hand on the side of her neck. “Tell me. Why silver?”

“Silver is only for engagements in Liūtas,” Annie said. “It’s meant to show the moon watching over the couple until they marry before Löwengöttin and get gold rings.”

Mikasa smiled again, bringing her other hand up to hold Annie’s breast. “What’s different about your ring to me?”

“A—Versprochene’s ring is important. It’s a promise.” She exhaled shakily when Mikasa ran her thumb back and forth over her nipple, closing her hands in the sheets over Mikasa’s shoulders. “A promise that—she will be loved by Löwengöttin as much as her kaiserin. By all of Liūtas.”

“What will you add to the ring?” Mikasa asked, and she tilted Annie’s head to be able to kiss her throat.

“I—” Her breath hitched when Mikasa nipped her skin. “I’d add a ruby and—” She whimpered at a hard suck over her pulse. “And four sapphires around it. For Löwengöttin and Liūtas.” The press of Mikasa’s thigh between her legs made her whimper again, letting go of the sheets to brace herself on Mikasa’s shoulders.

“What could I put a ring for you, Annie?” Mikasa asked. “I would like to give you one.” She waited until she heard Annie inhale to speak before rocking her leg against her. Annie bit her shoulder to muffle a moan; Mikasa chuckled.

“Do you want me to tell you or do you want to touch me?” Annie muttered.

“I don’t see why I can’t do both.” She laughed outright at Annie’s hard sigh. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to do the same to me.”

“I haven’t had many chances to do it, though.”

She tilted her head up to whisper in Annie’s ear. “Would you like to?”

“That depends,” Annie said, toying with Mikasa’s hair. “What would I be interrupting you during?”

Mikasa thought only briefly before saying, “Telling you what I would give you as an engagement present other than a ring.”

Annie’s hand went still for a moment, and then moved to rest on Mikasa’s chest. “What would you?”

“In Pardus, people don’t give each other rings. They give each other necklaces. Beautiful metals and gems.”

Annie kissed her cheek before starting to undo the buttons on her shirt. “Why necklaces?”

“It represents finding the person that makes them whole. They’ve been trying to find the person at the other end of their path, and their lover completes the path to make a circle.”

She opened Mikasa’s shirt, leaning down to kiss her bare chest. “What would you put on mine?”

“Emeralds,” she said, closing her eyes. “And gems made of obsidian.” She opened her mouth to continue, but words failed when Annie moved up to kiss her neck hard. She hummed when Annie cupped both of her breasts. “On a gold chain like the one I found for you before.”

“Why those stones?” Annie asked, moving down once more.

“Emeralds are gifts from the goddess who watches over lovers. They’re—” She stopped short at the sensation of Annie sucking gently on her nipple. She exhaled halfway before inhaling again. “They’re meant to show the good life waiting for—” She caught a moan behind her lips when Annie sucked harder and dug her nails into the small of her back. “For—them.”

Annie lifted her head to touch more kisses to Mikasa’s chest. “And why obsidian?”

“Obsidian is—” She stopped breathing when Annie set her thigh between her legs and started to rock.

Annie chuckled, and Mikasa could hear her smile when she asked, “Obsidian is what?”

“Is favored by—” She whimpered when Annie lowered her head to her breast and sucked again, rocking her leg harder. “By the goddess of strength. The one I—took my name from.”

“I didn’t know that’s where your name came from,” Annie murmured against her skin. “It’s a good one for you.” She let Mikasa pull her up into a kiss, still rocking her leg to feel her moan against her lips. Mikasa broke away to breathe, uneven and clutching Annie’s arms.

Annie kissed her cheeks before moving to her neck. She kept her touches light, not to tease but to feel the shudders through her body timed to her moans. Her fingertips caught Mikasa’s heartbeat when they moved over her chest. Her lips did the same when they lingered on her breast. She dotted Mikasa’s skin with kisses, all the while steadily rocking her leg between Mikasa’s.

Though she did not pause, Annie slowed down and lifted her head slightly. Mikasa looked at her after a time, cheeks flushed and hair disheveled from the bed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m trying to remember what you like best,” Annie said, smiling sheepishly.

Mikasa smiled in turn. “We’ve only had sex once, Leon-Hiyas. I don’t think either of us will remember everything perfectly the second time.” She reached up to take the pins from Annie’s hair, putting her hands in it when it was loose. “There’s no rush to be perfect.”

“Practice is fun,” Annie said, “but I like hearing you say my name like you did before.”

Mikasa chuckled, dragging her nails hard over the nape of Annie’s neck. The moan Annie let out was sharp and startled, and she hid her face in Mikasa’s shoulder to recover.

“I was wondering if _that’s_ what pushed you over the edge the other night,” Mikasa said. “Do the same to me.”

“Roll over,” Annie said. She tugged on one of Mikasa’s shoulders, moving to let her roll onto her stomach. Not bothering to take Mikasa’s shirt off properly, she pulled her collar down to bite the nape of her neck. Mikasa bit her lip, eyes closing tight as she hid her face in the sheets. When Annie bit down again, she whimpered loud enough to be heard.

“Annie,” she moaned, and again when Annie kissed where she’d bitten. She closed her hands in the sheets as Annie reached up the back of her shirt and scratched gently along her spine. Without the slightest hesitation, she lifted her hips when Annie’s hands moved to her stomach and lower still.

Fumbling at Mikasa’s belt was only slightly teasing, as Annie lost focus while kissing her neck and shoulders. She managed, though, and the clunk of the buckle on the floor was muted by the carpet when she pushed it off the bed. The button and zipper to her slacks were easier, but she pushed the slacks down only enough to slide her hand down the front of her underwear and reach her wet skin easily.

For a few seconds, Mikasa did not breathe. It helped her savor the warmth of Annie’s fingers against her, their gentle pressure. She inhaled slowly; Annie took it as guidance to begin to rub in slow circles. Mikasa felt her shoulders hitch and let them stay that way.

“Annie,” she whimpered again and again. She flinched when Annie dragged the nails of her free hand over her stomach, shivering when she smoothed her palm over the scratches. Her fingers ached for how tightly she held the sheets, but she could not uncurl them when Annie kept pressing kisses to her shoulder. Annie slipped a finger inside her; Mikasa stifled her gasp in the sheets.

“Is that all right?” Annie asked.

“It—it is.”

“Why are you so tense?”

She swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t—I remember the other night but this is… _different_. I don’t know why.”

“Maybe because you know who you are and this means more to you now.” Her voice grew soft when she said, “That’s how I feel right now.”

Mikasa turned her head slowly to look at Annie. “I think…that may be it.” Annie smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek. While she was still close, Mikasa said, “Keep going.”

She kissed Mikasa’s ear and said, “Gladly.” She brought her free hand down between Mikasa’s legs, rubbing faster as she moved her finger. Mikasa did not hide her face, only closing her eyes and biting her lip. Whenever she moaned with her mouth still closed, Annie kissed her cheeks.

It felt as thought there were thin lines of cold fire moving up her spine. Mikasa put a hand over her mouth to quiet herself, but Annie gently bit her wrist.

“I want your voice,” Annie whispered in her ear. “Let me hear you.”

Mikasa whimpered, and again when Annie pressed deep into her.

“That wasn’t a request,” Annie said.

Feeling her face burn, Mikasa took her hand away in time to moan loudly when Annie found her clit and rubbed hard and fast. The fire crept up her spine, making her sweat and pant. She moaned Annie’s name, slipping into Pardian as the fire reached her neck.

“A-Annie—hinihingi k-ko sa iyo!” she said. “ _Annie_!”

Annie bit the nape of her neck. Mikasa spasmed, jerking against Annie’s hands as she came. She caught her moaning inside her mouth, but it was more than loud enough to be heard. Annie followed her shudders and tension as best she could, only stopped when Mikasa stilled.

“Mikasa?” Annie said. “You’re crying.”

She opened her eyes, needing to blink the tears from her lashes. She sniffed and wiped her face dry. “I’m all right. That was different too.”

“You’re sure?”

She looked at Annie and smiled. “I promise. Come here.” Once Annie had leaned down enough, she kissed her sweetly. When they drew away, her smile grew sly. “Sit up, Leon-Hiyas.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll enjoy it. I promise.”

Frowning without meaning it, Annie took her hands away to sit up. She found herself caught by her belt loops and unceremoniously tugged to the edge of the bed, legs hanging down.

“What’re you doing?” she asked as Mikasa got out of bed.

She smiled all the more and spread Annie’s legs to kneel between them. “Kneeling before my kaiserin.” She took off Annie’s belt and dropped it on the floor. As she toyed with the button on her slacks, she said, “If it pleases you.”

For a few seconds, Annie sat there, mouth open, and said nothing. She swallowed and put her hands on Mikasa’s shoulders. “It does.”

“Good,” Mikasa said, undoing button and zipper with one hand. “I’ve thought of doing this a number of times.”

“‘This’?” Her face turned red when Mikasa worked her slacks and underwear off together. “Oh.”

Mikasa hummed, kissing Annie’s chest. She trailed her fingers along the curve of Annie’s thigh, taking her time when her fingertips found wetness smeared on her skin. Smiling, she rubbed her thumb over Annie’s inner thigh, moving inward. When Annie’s fingers curled in her shirt, she drew back.

“Don’t tease me,” Annie said.

Mikasa chuckled. “All right.” She touched the undersides of Annie’s knees, guiding her legs up and onto her shoulders. Taking her hips in her hands, she pulled Annie closer as she sank down on her knees. Softly, slowly, she kissed Annie’s thighs one after the other. All the while, she listened to Annie’s breath as it slowed down and grew deeper.

Nuzzling once against Annie’s stomach, she moved closer and lower still to kiss her sex. Annie drew a short, shaking breath and put a hand in Mikasa’s hair. She held tight when Mikasa began to lick her wet skin, breath failing every time Mikasa paused to kiss where her tongue had been.

The dig of Annie’s heels against her back was remarkable; Mikasa moved her tongue faster to make it happen more often. She brought one hand up from Annie’s hip to press at her chest. Annie leaned back without thinking, holding herself up with her free arm. Breath wavering and nerves aching, she watched Mikasa’s head between her legs.

“Mikasa,” she said, trailing into a long moan. Mikasa hummed against her to make her gasp, slipping two fingers inside her to make her swear. Rock her fingers hard and fast, she lifted her head slightly.

“I’ve thought of doing this to you on your throne,” she murmured. “In the dead of night, the door barred so no one could interrupt. Pleasuring you at your most regal. Do you think you would like that?”

Annie could not speak, red to her ears and panting. Her voice broke when Mikasa smiled and lowered her head. Without slowing her fingers at all, Mikasa sought with her tongue. It served to make Annie moan louder than before, but she continued to search. Only when she found Annie’s clit and heard her moans turn desperate did she stop. She focused all the attention of her tongue there, barely realizing her hand was moving faster.

Mikasa did not tease Annie with her tongue and fingers. Annie never had to tell her to keep going, and her words were lost in whimpering and moans of Mikasa’s name. She pressed hard on Mikasa’s back, gripping her hair with one hand and the sheets with the other. By the time Mikasa put her lips around her clit and hummed, she had no words to say. Moaning sound along, she came as her back trembled.

Mikasa slowed before stopping, touching her lips to Annie’s thighs and stomach to feel their shaking. She looked up when Annie put her other hand in her hair.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Annie nodded, swallowing to wet her tongue. “I wouldn’t say no to that on my throne.”

Mikasa chuckled. “I’d hoped you’d say that.”

“What did you say before? At the end.”

She thought. “‘I’m begging you.’”

Annie smirked and pinched Mikasa’s cheek. “You’re cute when you beg me.”

Chuckling, she rose to her feet and picked Annie up. “You’re very skilled at making me beg.”

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

“To the bath.”

Annie snickered. “I guess I did make a mess of your hair.”

“I never said we were stopping,” Mikasa said with a grin.

Annie returned the grin with a kiss to her cheek. “Good.”


	8. Lion's Aim, Tiger's Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to Mitras was never in doubt once they returned from Ragako. It was only ever a matter of planning and scheming with the resources they had.
> 
> When an appointment Mikasa had forgotten about long ago comes and goes, their resources multiply and their allies increase. The game is set and moves to Sina's capitol, and Mikasa recognizes Reiss on sight when they come before "King" Raugraves.
> 
> Still, they could not have accounted for Reiss harboring another secret like Historia.

There was a certain sense of smugness in Annie refusing to let any other reporters into the estate over the next two weeks. That smugness only increased when they left the estate on the fifteenth morning, breaking into two uneven groups. It pleased her deeply to have Eren buy a copy of each newspaper they saw still running a picture of herself and Mikasa on the front page. It made him snicker every time, and he was carrying four papers by the time they reached the jewelers’.

“I don’t think _you_ have that much of a right to grin,” Mikasa said, smiling at him. “You didn’t get engaged.”

“I’m grinning because I love thinking about the church officials getting pissy about her majesty spitting in their faces,” he replied. “That _always_ makes me happy.” He jogged on ahead to open the shop’s door, bowing his head as they passed. The two people inside, a man and a woman, froze in surprise before bowing deeply.

“Thank you for gracing our shop, your majesty,” the woman said. “Anka and Gustav Rheinberger at your service.”

“We’ll be happy to take any custom requests,” Gustav added.

“We need a pair of silver rings,” Mikasa said as she reached into her coat’s inner pocket, “with some additions.” She handed a cloth bag to Gustav. He took it to one of the glass cases, taking a soft cloth square from his work-apron to spread on the case. Anka came close, pulling on cloth gloves while Gustav gingerly shook out the bag’s contents. Five rubies and five sapphires rolled onto the cloth, one large and four small for each.

“What arrangement?” Anka asked.

“The small sapphires around the large ruby for Mikasa’s,” Annie said, “and the opposite for the rest on mine.”

“Ah, paired rings!” Gustav said. “I didn’t know that was from Liūtas!”

“It started as something only royalty did,” Annie replied. “But it was popular long before my father was crowned.”

“I like this style, personally,” Anka said, arranging the gems. “Here we are, your majesty. Would the band be under the large stone’s center?”

Annie looked closely at the stones before nodding. “That’s correct.”

“That shouldn’t take us too long, then,” said Gustav. “Two days at most. If we could get your measurements?”

They waited patiently through this and through a work order being filled out. Anka paused for a moment as Gustav returned the gems to their bag.

“Do either of you have the time?” she asked.

Mikasa checked her watch. “Nine fifty-six.”

“Then will an eleven o’clock pickup in two days be acceptable?”

“That’ll be perfect,” Mikasa replied. She bowed slightly. “You have our gratitude for accepting this.”

Anka laughed. “We’re happy to do it, your excellency. We should all be so lucky to find someone who makes us as happy as you two look.”

Annie smiled and said, “True. We’ll come back in two days.” They departed as Anka and Gustav bowed, Eren holding the door open again. He smiled at the shop as they went off, adjusting the newspapers in his arms.

“I like it here,” he said. “The people are pretty nice, when you thi—”

A young man slammed into Eren at a run, sending both of them to the ground in a burst of newspapers. Mikasa stepped in front of Annie as Eren and the other man groaned and sat up.

“What the hell was that for?” Eren grumbled.

“I’m so sorry!” the man said. “I’m late for an appointment! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Eren said, standing up and bracing himself on his thighs to catch his breath. “God almighty, that was a hit. Here, up you get.” He hauled the man onto his feet, shooing him away when he was up.

“Sorry again!” the man said as he ran off.

Eren sighed and started to pick up newspapers. “Amateur.”

“What?” Annie asked.

“Classic pickpocketing,” Eren replied. “But you can’t get me or Armin with that routine nowadays.”

Mikasa went to him when he had gathered the newspapers. She reached into his coat pocket to retrieve a folded piece of paper. Brows low, voice quiet, she said, “He put this on you.” She unfolded it to read its message.

_You have an appointment at 10:05._

She went pale, heart doing its best to stop. Eren peeked at the paper over her shoulder and checked his watch.

“That’s a really weird time,” he said. “He’d only have a couple minutes now.”

Mikasa crammed the note into her pocket. “I have to go. Now. I’ll see you at home.” She kissed Annie’s hair before sprinting away toward the manor. Bertholdt saw her coming, noted that she was not slowing down, and quickly opened the gate to let her run by. She climbed the stairs three at a time, stopping in the foyer to look at her watch. It was twenty seconds to five past ten. Panic rising in her gut, she bolted for the parlor.

A Pardian woman with dark silver hair and mismatched eyes sat in an armchair, a book in hand. She looked up only when Mikasa knocked on the doorframe.

“Huling anino?” Mikasa asked, unsure if she was breathing.

1005 chuckled as she closed the book and set it on one arm of the chair. “Good, you’ve gone to see eighteen-sixty. I was hoping I’d given you enough time.”

Mikasa stepped into the room, but felt a chill go up the back of her neck. She spun as the door was closed behind her. She grabbed a coat with both hands, lifting and slamming the person that had been hiding behind the door against the wall. The barrel of a revolver was set against her forehead; she froze.

“Stop,” 1005 said sharply.

Mikasa held her breath as the gun was raised.

“Set her down,” 1005 said.

She obeyed, stepping back slowly. A woman in her early twenties looked at her with a cheerful smile. Mikasa could not pick her heritage, her dark skin from Úlfurheim, but her dark blue eyes, gold-shot brown hair, and round eyes from Liūtas. She was a few inches shorter than Mikasa, but the heft of her arms and shoulders beneath her blue velvet coat were intensely familiar. Smiling, the woman slipped the revolver into a holster beneath her coat. She lay a hand over her heart and bowed deeply.

“Papuri sa anino,” she said. “It’s an honor to meet you again, eighteen-oh-two.”

Mikasa stared. She shook her head before hurrying to the windows to check the latches.

“Huling anino, I’m not worth jeopardizing your safety over!” she said. “Bodyguard or not, you shouldn’t have come here!”

1005 chuckled. “We’ve scouted your grounds, eighteen-oh-two. There are young shadows all around Xenten. This is nothing new for me now.”

She went still after locking the door. She turned around. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve met with seventeen-oh-three, haven’t you?” the woman asked. She smiled slightly, sad and without humor. “She looks a bit different, doesn’t she?”

A chill settled in her bones as she stared at her. “Kailas said she was hurt protecting huling anino.”

“Correct,” the woman said, and there was no youthfulness in her voice. “She would’ve have been hurt like that on an assignment.”

Mikasa looked at 1005. “Who tried to kill you?”

“Nineteen-oh-nine,” 1005 said. “Seven years ago, no. Seventeen-oh-three caught wind of his plan in time to protect me, nineteen eighty-seven, and Uncia as you know it.” She sighed. “Any request she could’ve made for her retirement would’ve been too small a payment.”

One of the numbers made Mikasa turn back to the woman. “Nineteen eighty-seven?”

She smiled more warmly. “We only met once or twice in Pardus before you went to Liūtas, unang anino. I’m glad you survived.”

A growing knot of nausea twisted Mikasa’s mouth. She looked at 1005 as hesitance filled her throat. “Huling anino…I can’t do this.”

1005 raised a brow, amusement in the slant of her mouth. “Do what?”

“Take assignments. I can’t leave here.”

She chuckled. “You think we’re here to give you assignments?”

“You’re—not?”

“We’re here for lumampas,” 1005 said.

She went still and silent. After a long while, she asked, “You still want me to lead Uncia?”

“Yes,” 1005 said simply. “My generation has passed. I am old and weary, but nineteen eighty-seven cannot become huling anino this early in life. We need you to lead and to give her guidance in her new role as unang anino.”

She hesitated.

1005 saw, and she chuckled. “Are you worried this will interfere with your plans for vengeance?”

“Yes.”

1005 gestured to 1987, picking up a bag from beside the chair. 1987 gave Mikasa the bag, stepping back as she opened it. On top of a stack of papers was a box; within the box were checks and a folded note. Mikasa read the note, eyes going wide.

“But,” she said, “my—last fee?”

“Placed in our bank and gathering interest for twelve years,” 1005 said. “And you can launder any other funds into your account per the instructions on that note. The bag also contains all of Rhode Reiss’ assassination orders through Uncia.”

Mikasa stared. “I don’t understand. I failed on assignment—why would you give me this?”

1005 chuckled, setting her elbows on the chair’s arms and lacing her fingers together loosely. “There something that you never experienced in your years as an active shadow, eighteen-oh-two. Seventeen-oh-three told you the truth when she said she would not have come to help you in Utgard if you were there as a failure. Failures and captured shadows are difficult to handle.”

She smiled cruelly, lifting one finger. “ _However_. What happened to you was not failure. You acted on your sibak, one that no one could argue against, and you were tortured for twelve years. This is unacceptable. Rhode Reiss decided to act as God against our shadows. He must face Banal na Kabangisan through all of Uncia. To that end, your first act as huling anino will be to use our shadows to _destroy_ any trace of this paltry royal house that would try to attack us.”

She stopped breathing entirely. The smile that came to her was just as cruel as 1005’s. “I thank you for this gift, huling anino. I will pass my title to nineteen eighty-seven in exchange for yours.” Her smile faltered when she heard Annie’s voice through the door.

“Her majesty may learn this,” 1005 said, tipping her head. “In any case, we need a witness. Please invite her in.”

She nodded, unlocking the door and opening it. Annie stood on the other side, reaching for the doorknob. She looked at Mikasa, utterly lost.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why’d you run off like that?”

“I had to keep an appointment,” Mikasa replied. Trying not to grin, she stepped to one side and gestured into the room. “There are two people I’d like you to meet, Leon-Hiyas. Please come in.”

She did so with little hesitation, but she stared at 1005 sitting in the chair. “How the hell did you get in our house?”

“With the shadows, your majesty,” 1005 said with a wry smile. She chuckled when Annie went pale. “You have nothing to fear from us. The order of litgas is in place for you and Historia Reiss. You will never be made a target in Uncia’s circles.”

“Thank you,” Annie said quietly.

“Believe me, no one wants to take an assignment from Reiss again,” 1987 said, closing the door.

Annie’s heels left the floor as she jumped with surprise. She spun to stare at 1987, unable to react to the way she smiled and bowed with a hand over her heart. She looked at Mikasa.

“What in Löwengöttin’s name is going on?” she asked.

“Lumampas,” Mikasa said. “A passing of titles, and another step toward destroying Rhode Reiss.”

“Technically also another step to returning you to your rightful place, your majesty,” 1987 added, grinning outright as she straightened up.

Annie only stared at her. After a moment, she asked, “Who are you, exactly?”

“Go on,” 1005 chuckled. “I know you’ve been dying to.”

“Allow me to introduce myself properly,” 1987 said. “I am nineteen eighty-seven within our circles, but I am known as someone specific to the rest of the world.” She lowered her hand, revealing the golden patch on her coat and the blue lion embroidered upon it. Looking deeply proud, she said, “I am Nótt Basanti, the fourth true-born heir of the Basanti house.”

Annie’s jaw dropped. “ _Basanti_?” She spun to stare at 1005. “The Basanti house is a _cover_ house?”

“We have a few noble houses is every country, Kaiserin Leonhardt,” Nótt said. “My mother’s house in Úlfurheim is another, actually. Rest assured, Liūtas’ house of the azure lion is proud to serve your family again. I was sent here on the fastest ship in Liūtas to serve as your aide and bodyguard.”

“How much of that is true?” Annie asked, voice dry and brow raised.

“All of it, surprisingly,” Nótt chuckled. “But please don’t worry—I won’t get in huling anino’s way in protecting you. Consider me a first line of defense, not your closest shadow.”

Annie stared at her a moment longer. She considered her words, and then asked, “You were really sent by the people of Liūtas?”

“I was in Kiel returning from an assignment when Dale Auberon arrived with her article and photographs,” she said. “Even if Reichsgraf Basanti _hadn’t_ sent word for me to have a place on a ship, the people who heard about the article would have thrown me onto a ship to come here.” She paused with a thought, reaching into a different pocket in her coat. She drew out a stack of photographs and offered them to Annie.

“Miss Auberon insisted I bring these to you,” she said softly.

Annie took the photographs, eyes going wide at the first one. Mikasa looked over her shoulder, seeing Annie as a little girl in a garden, held by a beautiful woman in a blue dress. Dirt was smudged on their faces, but they and the broad-shouldered man behind them smiled brilliantly.

“Mama and Papa,” Annie whispered, covering her mouth. She swallowed with difficulty. “I almost forgot how they looked when they smiled.” She looked at the next one, inhaling sharply because it showed not only her and the man and woman, but also a tiny Historia in the garden, smiling shyly as the man held her in his lap. She lowered her hand slightly to inhale properly.

“She found the one where Papa had Historia sit with us,” Annie said. “I wanted her in a picture, but she was too shy—Papa told the photographer that she was his ward so she’d stop being worried.”

“Liūtas wants you _both_ home, your majesty,” Nótt said. “As a viscountess of the empire, I will help you take back your throne.” She smiled a horrible smile, her dark blue eyes bright. “As the new unang anino, I will gladly help you destroy the man who tried to kill you and Historia Reiss.”

Annie looked up at her, lowering her hand. Her smile was cold in grim satisfaction. “I’m happy to accept your help, Nótt.”

“Then you act as our witness, your majesty?” 1005 asked. “I pass the title of huling anino to eighteen-oh-two and she passes the unang anino to nineteen eighty-seven.”

“I acknowledge this,” Annie said. “And I thank you for the gifts you’ve given me.”

1005 smiled with genuine warmth. “You’re more than welcome.” She took to her feet, bowing properly. “If you’ll allow me a bit more of nineteen eighty-seven’s time, I’ll take my leave. Tapang sa iyo.”

Mikasa bowed deeply to her, saying, “Tapang sa iyo.” She straightened up in time to see Nótt waving as she and 1005 left the room. After a moment, she turned to Annie, who looked at her with a small measure of shock.

“Did that just happen?” Annie asked.

“It did,” Mikasa chuckled. “We’ve been given my last fee and an army of assassins to assist you and Erwin.” She smiled massively, lifting Annie off her feet. “All that stands in our way is Reiss! Everything is in place to put you _and_ Historia on your thrones!”

Annie held onto her shoulders for balance, smiling all the while. “Then our next step is to catch up with Erwin. After that is Mitras.”

Mikasa set her on her feet, leaning down to kiss her even as Annie caught her by the lapels and pulled her close.

————

It took Ymir the longest to get used to Nótt, needing a solid three weeks to stop raising her fists any time they crossed paths in the halls. Even when she had calmed down, she still grumbled about Nótt being quieter than Mikasa.

“Can you wear boots inside or something?” she asked one day over lunch. “I can’t hear you coming and it’s really unnerving.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Nótt replied, frowning at the notion. “I’d track dirt everywhere.” She smiled, lifting her hands when Ymir scowled at her. “In any case, I’m here to help all of you, not scare you. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you with how quiet I am.”

Ymir grumbled; Historia patted her hand on the table.

Nótt sighed softly as she took her pocket-watch from her waistcoat. After checking the time, she wound the watch and put it away. She looked at Annie and said, “Your majesty, the message from Commander Erwin’s ship said they’d be docking about now today. Shall I escort him and his party here?”

“Go ahead,” Annie replied.

She took to her feet and bowed, heading out of the dining hall without a sound.

“Weirdo,” Ymir muttered after a time. She ignored Historia punching her arm.

Mikasa smiled. “Just be patient. She’s barely older than Historia and most of her talents lie in being an assassin. She needs time to be around people who _aren’t_ targets, and she’s more than a little starstruck around Annie.”

“The Basanti house is one of the oldest noble houses in Liūtas,” Annie said. “It was the most loyal house, based on how Father spoke of them.” She sighed. “I can’t believe it’s a house of assassins.”

“Better to have people who are involved in Liūtas’ current affairs,” Armin said. “That should only increase with Commander Erwin and his forces.”

Mikasa saw Historia fidget, her eyes on the table. It was only then that she realized almost all of Historia’s food had gone untouched. She leaned forward and asked, “Historia, are you not feeling well?”

Historia made no reply. She sat still and silent, and her face was very pale.

“Hvolpur?” Ymir said She fidgeted. “I’ll stop being an ass to Basanti if that’s what’s bugging you. I’m just not used to another wolf being in the house—I can knock it off.”

“What if Erwin blames me?” Historia asked quietly.

They all stared at her. Eren said, “For _what_?”

“For what happened to Liūtas.” Her shoulders grew tense. “If…if I wasn’t in Liūas, Reiss wouldn’t have sent an offer to Uncia. He wouldn’t have gotten Mother and Kaiser Matvey killed—he wouldn’t have made Annie go into hiding. What if—what if Erwin blames me?”

“Then I’ll have Mikasa break his knees,” Annie replied, brows low and shoulders high. “ _None_ of this was your fault.”

“But you said Liūtas’ fall was a cover for him trying to kill _me_!”

“Reiss didn’t _have_ to try and kill you. He tried to kill the kaiserin’s daughters. The _kaiser’s_ daughters. If Erwin wants to look at the truth any other way, I’m removing him from his position. You have no reason to blame yourself for Reiss’ crimes.”

She still stared at the table, pale and with her mouth twisted.

“Historia,” Annie said gently, “Mother _and_ Father loved you. You were their daughter just as much as I was, even if my father wasn’t yours. _I_ don’t blame you, and they wouldn’t either. Don’t worry about what Erwin thinks.”

“All right,” Historia said without a shred of belief in her voice. Ymir immediately took her hand and squeezed; Historia smiled very slightly. There was a brief rush of activity to clean and dress more formally before Erwin’s arrival, all of them gathering in the courtyard for more space. Historia sat with Ymir, eyes steadfastly on the ground, and she waited in silence. When she heard Nótt’s voice, she flinched and went pale.

“I present Petra Ral, Hanji Zoe, and Commander Erwin Smith, miladies,” Nótt called down from the veranda. She led the way down the stairs, deftly stepping to one side to avoid Hanji as they hurried to hug Annie hard. When they let go, they looked at Annie and Mikasa’s left hands and smiled at their rings.

“I was hoping that article wasn’t spreading a rumor,” they chuckled. “Congratulations, your majesty.”

“Thanks,” Annie said with a smile. She looked up when a man, tall and broad with silver streaks in his blond hair, stepped closer. He ignored Mikasa and looked at her closely, thick eyebrows low over his eyes as he studied her features. After a moment, he smiled and bowed deeply.

“I don’t think I can tell you how relieved I was when Hanji and Petra told me you were alive and well, your majesty,” he said, voice thick. “You truly are Sonnenlöwin.”

Annie started to speak. “I’m glad you’re all right, Commander—”

Erwin shifted slightly, his right side coming forward. Her throat closed up when she saw how his right sleeve was mostly empty, pinned up over what remained of his arm. Historia, sitting behind him, was already white with horror, mouth open.

“Erwin,” Annie choked out, “what the— _what happened_?”

Confusion made him go still. He followed her gaze to his arm. “It happened during the siege on the castle, your majesty.”

The sound of a sharp sob made him jump with surprise. He turned in time to see Historia hide her face in her hands and start to cry. His brows came together; he walked to her. Slowly, he knelt down before her. Gently, he touched her hand. She hesitated a long while before looking up.

“Is this the face of Liūtas’ other fürstin?” he asked, smiling. “I don’t remember you crying like this before, even when you bumped into me in the halls.”

“I’m so sorry!” Historia sobbed. “It’s my fault! Everything is my fault!”

Erwin sighed, still smiling. “Petra explained it very differently, you know.”

“Wh-what?”

“She told me that the would-be assassin who came to you and Annie carried an order from Rhode Reiss, not you. Did you send that order and plan everything else?”

“No, but—if I wasn’t—”

Erwin held up a hand, still smiling. “I am a servant of the Leonhardt family and of Löwengöttin. Our lady of the sun refuses to see a sin of the parent as a sin of the child, and I’m certainly not above her. I refuse to see Reiss’ sin as yours.”

Historia looked at him, brows together and shoulders high and stiff. She sniffed quietly.

“You don’t have to worry,” he said. “I promise.” He lowered his voice to murmur, “All that mattered to the people of Liūtas was the chance that you _both_ escaped that night. That you were safe and happy these last twelve years is a miracle we couldn’t have prayed harder for.”

She smiled tentatively, grumbling when Ymir ruffled her hair. Erwin laughed as he stood up, patting Historia on the shoulder. He turned, eyes searching until he spotted Mikasa. His smile grew awkward before failing with a sigh.

“I have to admit,” he said, “that I’m not altogether _happy_ that Liūtas is indebted to an assassin like this.”

Mikasa smiled pleasantly. “I would look at this as a convening of divine will. After all, I’m not asking for Liūtas to repay me for _not_ murdering children.”

When Erwin smiled again, it was weak. He would have looked about for an empty chair, but Nótt was already carrying one over to place it between the two lounges Mikasa, Annie, Historia, and Ymir sat on. She stepped away, moving to stand at a small distance behind Annie.

“Reichsgraf Basanti has my thanks for sending his daughter,” Erwin said as he sat down. “Any assistance we can get in ensuring Annie and Historia’s safety in Sina is welcome.”

Nótt bowed to him. “I’m honored to do it, Commander.”

He nodded to her and looked at Annie. “The article said that you plan on going to Mitras after we met. Are you actually planning on asking for Raugraves’ help?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Annie said. “It’s to start making the people of Sina sympathetic to putting me back on the throne without any outside nobility in my way. It’s also to make Rhode Reiss as unhappy as humanly possible.”

He looked at Mikasa. “And you intend to kill him?”

“I intend to make him suffer enough to view suicide as his only option,” she replied.

Erwin sighed quietly through his nose. “I’m not opposed, but how are you planning to do that?”

“Slowly leak information about his doings to the Sina populace. He built up a decent history assassination orders _before_ sending the order for Annie and Historia, and at least five more in the last twelve years. It’s all been tied up in his dealings with women and their families: killing bastards of his and wiping out witnesses so they couldn’t expose him.”

He boggled a moment before he scowled with disgust. “Loathsome little vulture.” Still scowling, he put his hand to his chin to think. After some time, he looked at Historia. “Should I assume this is all going to culminate in revealing you’re his daughter from Nasya Leonhardt?”

She nodded, clearing her throat from crying. “We’re planning on doing it when most of the rest is public. I should be the last straw.”

“I see.” He drummed his fingers on his chin. He turned to Hanji. “How many staff members from the palace who knew Historia’s full name escaped the siege?”

Hanji looked up at the clouds. Silent, mouth closed, they counted on their fingers. “I believe…twenty, not including myself. If I recall correctly, they were hired by other nobles, but we were all under standing orders from Kaiser Matvey to only ever refer to Historia as his ward. No one would expose her.”

Nótt’s brows rose. “Would one of those servants be named Ilse Langnar?”

Historia jumped. “Our librarian?”

“She came to the Basanti house as my tutor after the siege,” Nótt said with a smile. “She’s prayed for both of you without saying your surname, milady.”

Erwin smirked. “And other servants were picked up by Margrave Soames, who now controls Liūtas. They’ve been acting as spies for me, but if any of them knew the fürstin, I can have them start spreading the word from the margrave’s house out.” He looked at Historia and asked, “Do I have your permission to order that?”

“Yes,” said Historia, “but not yet. Not until we’ve settled in Mitras.”

“When will that be?”

“By the end of the month if the housing search goes well,” Annie said.

“Would you allow me to assign at least a few soldiers to provide additional protection? They wouldn’t interfere with your day-to-day activities.”

“We’ve been searching for _two_ places,” Annie said. “One for us and one for whatever soldiers you wanted to assign to us.”

“That’s a relief,” Petra said. “We didn’t want to live underfoot.”

“Who is ‘we’ in this scenario?” Nótt asked.

Hanji raised a hand. “Me, Petra, Lieutenant-Colonel Keith Shardis, and Corporal Levi.”

Eren flinched. “ _Corporal_ Levi?”

“He won’t be yelling at you!” Hanji laughed, waving a hand. “Don’t worry! Besides, you’ll want him as someone who’s good with the lowlifes in Mitras!”

“It should come in handy,” Armin said. “Levi looks enough like a soldier _and_ a criminal that he won’t be suspected.”

Because Eren still grimaced, Mikasa said, “If he bothers you, tell me and I’ll make him stop.” To Erwin, she said, “Are these soldiers with you currently?”

“They’re back on the Survey,” Erwin replied. “I’d hoped you would allow them to begin protecting her majesty and Fürstin Historia now.”

“That’s fine,” Annie said. “We have enough room in the manor to house them.”

“You have my gratitude, your majesty,” Erwin said. “Do you have any orders for me with regard to Liūtas?”

“What are you doing at the moment?”

“Being polite on the face of things,” he replied. “Acting as the commander of the empire’s army while letting our soldiers sabotage Sina operations.”

“Play up the fact that you’re looking for new recruits for your kaiserin’s army,” Annie said. “Make it _completely_ clear to this Margrave Soames that I intend to return to Liūtas as its sole ruler, not as someone below him.”

Erwin smirked. “Rattle the sword?”

“As loudly as you can. I feel comfortable in saying my country is tired of interlopers.”

He bowed in his chair. “It will be done, your majesty.”

————

Mikasa wasn’t certain who among their party looked most unhappy upon arriving at Mitras two weeks on. Historia was anxious to the point of pallor no matter how tightly Annie held her hand. While Hanji peered about curiously as they drove the carriage through one of the gates to the walled city, Petra’s eyes were not curious. Levi and Shardis rode some distance back, all but openly scowling at the people strolling along the sidewalks.

“Not exactly a happy sort, are they,” a voice said beside her.

Mikasa turned, seeing Nótt coming up to ride next to her at the front of the group. She smiled and replied, “The soldiers? Or do you mean Lady Renz?”

“A bit of both,” Nótt said. She glanced over her shoulder. “I know I’m not relaying new information, but she was awake all of last night.” She rubbed her thumbs over the reins. “I apologize. Telling her who would be in attendance at her majesty’s meeting with Raugraves like I did was tactless.”

“A bit, but it’s a matter of practice,” Mikasa said. “Besides, that information is essential. The only people who should be disturbed by this meeting are the Sina nobility. She needed to know so she wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Still. I really didn’t want to upset her.”

Mikasa chuckled. “Then you’ll like the task that I have for you.”

She sat up straighter in the saddle. “Yes, your excellency?”

“Annie is bound to be targeted at some point,” Mikasa said quietly. “I need to ensure nothing happens to her. To that end, I need your help in making sure nothing happens to Lady Renz _or_ Ymir. They’re more likely to be harassed here until our plans are done, and we don’t know how Reiss will react if he realizes who she is.”

Nótt smiled. “I’m happy to give you my help in that regard, your excellency. Thank you for the opportunity.” She turned toward the sidewalk, staring at a trio of military police until their own stares faltered. When they were well out of earshot, she turned to Mikasa and said, “I had no idea wolf’s blood was so poorly regarded here.”

“Be prepared for people to insult you and Ymir on that basis,” Mikasa replied. “I expect both of you to uphold your honor, but don’t let anyone lead Ymir out of sight if they do.”

“I’ll keep them safe.”

Mikasa smiled at her, and then at the sight of Eren and Armin pacing on the sidewalk further up the road. Armin heard them first, waving as they arrived. Eren hurried to open the doors to two large townhouses, bowing as they dismounted.

“Most everything is arranged, your excellency,” Armin said. He offered her a few pieces of folded paper. “This covers what you and the viscountess asked for.”

“Very good,” Mikasa said. She unfolded one piece of paper, reading Armin’s handwriting. In neat, tiny script, he listed doorways, corners, windows, and his and Eren’s best estimations of blind spots and entry points for them. She nodded and passed the papers to Nótt. Nótt glanced at them.

“I’ll work on this as we settle,” she said, tucking the papers into her coat’s inner pocket. “Thank you kindly, Mister Arlert.”

Mikasa chuckled at the startled look on Armin’s face as she went to the carriage. She opened the door, lowered the steps, and offered her hand. Annie climbed down first, not at all looking the part of the kaiserin at a distance in blue denim trousers and a short-sleeved, white hooded shirt. Historia came next, dressed much the same but deeply pale. Ymir was last, dressed in black slacks, a gray shirt, and an unbutton black waistcoat. She took Historia’s hand at once, squeezing until Historia smiled.

“Eren will give you your tour,” Armin said. “I’ll show everyone else the other house.”

“Thank you,” Eren whispered before he hurried inside. He waited in the entryway, keeping still until everyone was inside and Mikasa had closed the door. Smiling, he spread his arms and said, “These two townhouses match Mikasa’s requests as close as anything in Mitras can. Three floors, a thousand square feet per floor, and with a total of seven bedrooms between the second and third floors.”

He went off toward a hallway, leading them past a den and a dining room to a large kitchen. “Armin and I will be your staff here, so we’ll do whatever cooking or cleaning you don’t want to. The other house will do their own work.”

With a gesture to beckon, he led them through a small library with few books and a sitting room before heading upstairs. He pointed out two empty rooms at the front of the house before moving on. Two of the three bedrooms were furnished, but only one contained clothes and looked lived in. Noting that it was his and Armin’s, he jogged upstairs.

“All right,” he said when they had followed him. “So per Mikasa’s instructions, the bedrooms up here are like this.” He pointed to a pair of doors at the end of the hall, far from the front of the house and the street. “That’s Mikasa and Annie’s.” He pointed to the next nearest doors on the right side, nearer to the other townhouse. “That’s Historia and Ymir’s.” He pointed at last to doors on the left side, near the stairs.

“That one goes to Nótt,” Eren said. “The other room is furnished, but it’s locked like you asked.” He gave Mikasa two keys, one of which she handed to Nótt. He looked between them curiously. “What’re you going to put in there?”

“The usual,” Nótt said, smiling, and she did not elaborate. She tucked the key into her pocket and bowed to Historia and Ymir. “Would you permit me to do a quick inspection of your room, miladies? I would like to ensure nothing has slipped by Misters Jaeger and Arlert.”

“Uh,” Ymir said, “sure? Go for it.”

Nótt straightened up, walking to the room with an easy stride. Mikasa went for her and Annie’s room, examining every corner, window seam, and anything that looked like a hole in the walls. Annie followed close behind, brow raised. When Mikasa knelt down to peer under the large bed, she bit down on a snort of laughter. Mikasa looked up when she saw nothing of interest, raising a brow in turn.

“I know what you’re doing,” Annie said, snickering. “But you look like a kid trying to catch Löwengöttin.”

Mikasa looked at her blankly.

“Winter’s Sun,” Annie said.

Mikasa still looked at her blankly.

“Winter’s Sun is the most important holiday in Liūtas,” Annie said, moving to sit on the bed. “We spend the second week of winter doing good things to entice Löwengöttin down from the sun, and the day she does is when we try to catch her. Parents hide presents for kids to hunt down, friends or lovers go out with each other, and my parents would grant requests if they could. Löwengöttin goes back to the sun when she’s sure we’re happy.”

“Have you been celebrating it?” Mikasa asked.

“Johan did his best to replicate it, but all his holidays were Sina’s.”

Mikasa hummed as she thought. “The second week of winter?”

“It was standardized to start on December fourteenth, and the twenty-second is when Löwengöttin is on Earth.”

Mikasa thought a moment more before smiling. “That should be enough time. I’d like to give Liūtas their Sonnenlöwin this year.”

Annie smirked. “Thank goodness I know you can back that up.”

Mikasa said nothing, only reaching out to take Annie’s hand. She kissed her knuckles gently, and Annie smiled at her in silence.

————

There were a number of stipulations on their ability to come before Raugraves and his council of seven advisors. The first and most fiercely stated was that no weaponry would be allowed on any person, either in Annie’s party or among the councilmen’s. Other rules dealt with their attire and mannerisms, the latter of which Annie rolled her eyes at. Others still stated how many of Erwin’s soldiers would be allowed in the room at a time.

One one rule had been fought against. While Mikasa and Nótt were granted entrance by way of their rank and relation to Annie, Historia and Ymir were, at first, not to be allowed before Raugraves.

“I’m going,” Historia said the night the first note of allowed guests was delivered. Spots of red settled high on her cheeks when the others were silent. “Nótt told us Rhode Reiss is going to be there. I’m _going_. None of you can stop me from going.”

“Better let me go, too,” Ymir said, looking at Annie. “That way Mikasa and Basanti can focus on you.”

Annie looked at the dining table, hand on her chin. “I’m willing to fight them, but I need a good reason to throw in their faces.”

Eren, mouth full of food, let out a muffled noise and raised one hand. He chewed and swallowed hard. “Wait, what about what Mikasa said the night Annie debuted? About you being Annie’s best friend, remember?”

They all stared at him, confusion in their gazes.

“Think about it,” he said. “Mikasa said Annie told her to save Christa in Liūtas, right? Even if she was just Annie’s best friend, that’s something significant for what happened to them. Hell, you could even say that Christa is acting as an advisor. She _has_ to be there as a citizen of Liūtas to support the rightful kaiserin!”

Nótt was the first to react, smiling crookedly. “Do you use all your hours daydreaming to come up with these plots?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a grin. “And Ymir can go with her because of how Mikasa introduced her, right?”

“I think we can make that argument,” Mikasa said. “Good work.”

He spent the rest of the night grinning, and it only grew brighter when the next messenger’s reply said they would be allowed to attend. It was set for five days after that, and it was all the time Annie and Historia needed. When the day arrived, they both were supremely composed. Historia dressed in a fine silk dress, robin’s egg blue, with her hair braided loosely. Annie was dressed similarly, though her dress was a much deeper shade of blue. It was complemented by a necklace of obsidian and emeralds, and her hair was held in a neat bun. With Mikasa and Nótt comfortable in their formal coats and clothes, only Ymir fidgeted on the trip to the palace. She stopped when Historia held her knee, straightening her collar and coat before they arrived.

Servants came to escort them and they settled in the formation they had discussed. Hanji, Petra, and Levi brought up the rear, Petra and Levi surveying the halls while Hanji kept an eye on servants. Ahead of them were Nótt, Historia, and Ymir. Historia walked between them, her stride smooth and confident. Annie and Mikasa headed the group, perfectly calm and looking regal enough that servants bowed without thinking. They were brought to an imposing door made of dark oak wood. A servant moved to open it; Mikasa heard Annie and Historia take deep breaths. The door was opened and the servant stepped into the room.

“I present Annie Leonhardt, kaiserin of Liūtas,” the man said to the room, “Countess Mikasa Ackerman of Sina, Viscountess Nótt Basanti of Liūtas, Baroness Christa Renz, Lendur Ymir, and their entourage.”

A small scraping of chairs greeted them as they walked into the room. Eight men stood up around a long, rectangular table. Four chairs were unoccupied; one at the end, two to the left, and one to the right. At the far end of the table stood a tall, slender man with gray in his hair and beard, his clothes simple but as richly tailored as Annie’s. He put a hand over his heart and bowed to her.

“Welcome to Mitras, your majesty,” he said. “To have Liūtas’ lost kaiserin trust me enough to ask for my aid is a high honor.” He straightened up and said, “My name is Lucien Raugraves. Please sit down and we can talk.”

Annie took the seat directly opposite him, and Mikasa sat on her right. Historia sat on her left, Ymir next to her. Nótt remained on her feet at Annie’s left side; Hanji, Petra, and Levi took places near the door. As Raugraves and the other men began to sit, Mikasa looked at all of them carefully. She sought any sign of a tell, any trace of the man from twelve years before. When her eyes met those of the man on Raugraves’ right, she stopped.

He was stocky, cheeks larger with weight and hair shorter. He had grown a thin mustache and sat smaller in his chair. There was no mistaking his eyes, pale blue and the same size and shape as Historia’s. After a moment, recognition hit him. Mikasa saw his face tighten, his shoulders rise. She smiled cheerfully and waited a few second more before turning to Annie.

Annie had followed her gaze. She, too, smiled at Rhode Reiss before leaning back in her chair and folding her hands neatly in her lap. Mikasa glanced at Historia, seeing that she was very carefully leaning forward to catch the smallest glance at Reiss. He did not notice her, and she leaned back with a tiny, grim smile.

“How can we be of assistance, your majesty?” Raugraves asked.

“How long will it take for Margrave Soames to be removed from power?” Annie replied.

A few men, Reiss included, flinched. One man sat forward and said, “The margrave is…possibly unaware of your safety, your majesty. We’ve not heard from him.”

Annie raised a brow and looked at Nótt. “What did Reichsgraf Basanti say in one of his letters to you?”

“That Margrave Soames is unwilling to meet with any members of the press or any of our nobility,” Nótt said. “If they even mention you or Reichsgräfin Ackerman, they’re…ah, _escorted_ away.”

Annie turned to face the rest of the table, brow still raised. “King Raugraves, it seems that Soames isn’t going to leave Liūtas without some sort of order. I would prefer it not be a _military_ order from me.”

Raugraves sighed; Mikasa kept herself from raising a brow at the genuine distress in the sound. He sat and thought for a time before turning to Reiss.

“What would be a reasonable timeframe for pulling Soames out of Liūtas, Reiss?” he asked. “You know him better than I do.”

Reiss went stiff for a few seconds. Annie saw, her shoulders rising slightly. She let them fall, saying, “Duke Rhode Reiss, yes?”

“Yes, your majesty,” he said, brow knitting.

“Did you place this man in power in my country?” she asked, eyes growing cold.

He cleared his throat and said, “I made a recommendation for who could keep the peace in Liūtas after your pa—”

Annie said, “ _Viscountess Basanti_.”

Nótt reached into an inner pocket of her coat, retrieving an envelope. She took a letter from it to read aloud. “‘To Nótt, thank you for bringing her majesty’s concerns to my attention. I have met with the heads of the Falkenrath, Meyer, and Rothenburg houses as she requested, and they all agree that the voices of the people are not being heard. We have never believed that Kaiser Matvey and Kaiserin Nasya were killed by Liūtan citizens, and our requests to search for Kaiserin Annie were never heard. Please inform our kaiserin of this. Sincerely, Reichsgraf Viktor Basanti.’”

Annie never took her eyes from Reiss. The line of her mouth was hard, her stare utterly frigid. She slowly turned to Raugraves. In a quiet, even voice, she said, “My country has been under foreign rule for twelve years. Its citizens are not being supported. If you respect my countrymen and the memory of my parents _at all_ , you will remove Soames from Liūtas and allow me to return home without having to fight for my throne.”

Raugraves held up his hands, but he did not try to smile to placate. His expression was weary; he could not meet her gaze for long.

“And you’ll do that _without_ trying to make me marry your son again,” Annie said with a scowl.

He lowered his hands with a sigh. For a moment, he struggled with his words. He said, “It’s not my place to put conditions on your rule, your majesty. It’s certainly not my place to try to absolve your engagement with Countess Ackerman.”

The man on Reiss’ other side, clad in the robe of a bishop, looked up with disgust building in his face. “But your majesty, that’s—”

“Beyond the bounds of our church,” Raugraves said, frowning. “My stance has not changed. Countess Ackerman will not be charged with any crime under church ordinance.”

“But—”

Reiss held up a hand. “That is the king’s edict.”

The bishop went silent, nodding despite his frown.

Reiss cleared his throat. He stared at the table a moment before looking at Annie. “Can you give us until the fall to bring Margrave Soames back to Sina, your majesty? I know how stubborn he is and it will take some time.”

She raised a brow. “You recommended to put someone stubborn in a seat of power?”

“I—apologize.”

She bristled visibly, but grit her teeth and took a deep breath. “You have until the end of October. I ask that you do your best to remove him sooner than that.”

“Of—of course, your majesty,” Reiss said.

“Then I’ll let my father know the good news,” Nótt said with a smile. “The people of Liūtas will be quite excited.”

Reiss grimaced, but nodded.

“We plan on staying in Mitras until Soames has been removed,” Annie said. “Please keep us updated on how that progresses.”

“Of course,” said Raugraves. “Feel free to send word if there’s anything you require.”

“Thank you,” Annie said flatly. “We’ll take our leave so you can get started.” She stood, Nótt smoothly pulling her chair back. Mikasa stood as well, keeping her eye on Reiss. Ymir stood next, blocking Historia from Reiss’ view. A servant moved to open the door for them. The moment it was opened, however, a small girl with dark hair and large, pale blue eyes ran inside with a smile on her face.

“Papa!” she said in a voice terribly similar to Historia’s. “Is the kaiserin still here? Can I say hello?”

Reiss went pale and rushed to stand up. “Sweetheart, what have I told you about meetings?”

“But you said Kaiserin Leonhardt would be here today!” she protested. “I want to say hello!”

Mikasa kept her face smooth, but found both Nótt and Annie struggling to do the same. A blend of horror and fury was building on Historia’s face as she stared at the girl. Ymir gripped her elbow tight, brows low and teeth clenched.

Reiss, the pale color of a bleached bone, looked at Annie. She stared back, having forced her expression to a neutral state.

“She can say hello to me,” she eventually said.

The girl turned at her voice, hurrying over. Standing at a respectable distance that put her on Historia’s other side, she curtseyed properly.

“I’m pleased to meet you, your majesty,” she said. “I’m Freida Reiss.”

Mikasa felt rage building in her throat, but breathed normally. Annie stared at Freida. She turned toward Reiss. She turned back and said, “A pleasure. Excuse us.”

Historia moved first, walking behind Freida before she could look at her. Nótt and Ymir followed quickly, slipping out the door shortly before Hanji, Petra, and Levi. Annie went after Historia as quickly as she could while staying composed, Mikasa at her side. When they had caught up, a gesture from Mikasa made Hanji, Petra, and Levi fall back to bring up the rear.

“Historia,” Annie whispered, catching her hand. “Slow down and breathe.”

Historia looked not at her, but at Nótt. Eyes ablaze with fury, she hissed, “Why didn’t you _say_ he had a daughter?”

“I was unaware!” Nótt whispered back, distress plainly in her eyes. “I’m sorry! I really didn’t know—I didn’t get any reports about this!”

Historia stared for a few seconds before closing her eyes tightly and taking a deep breath.

“This changes nothing,” Mikasa said quietly. When Annie and Historia looked at her, she shook her head and murmured, “Nothing changes at all. We’ll discuss it at home. Come on.”

Just as pale as Reiss had been, Historia nodded. Servants hurried up to lead them properly, taking them back outside. Their intent was as it had been before: for Annie, Historia, Mikasa, Ymir, and Nótt to get into the carriage with Hanji, Petra, and Levi on the driver’s seat. Mikasa felt a shiver go up her spine, seeing Nótt’s shoulders rise from the corner of her eye. A squad of six MP officers stepped out from behind the high wall surrounding the palace before they could reach the sidewalk.

Levi stepped forward at the sight of their sneering faces, putting himself at the front of their group. “Who do you think you’re stepping in front of? What the fuck is this about?”

“Church orders, little man,” one officer said.

“Reichsgräfin Ackerman is not to be charged with any crime based on church ordinance,” Annie snapped, shoulders rising.

“It’s not over her,” another man said. He kept Levi from lunging at two other men as they went straight for Historia and Ymir. Nótt shot between them, arms spread wide.

“Lendur Ymir’s family is a close relation to my mother, Agata Basanti,” she said, voice as cold and vicious as her eyes, “once of the noble house Marcin in Úlfurheim. Your church has no claim on her relationship with _anyone_.”

“Doesn’t help the Renz girl, does it?” one man said, and he went to reach past her arm to grab Historia.

In the instant that Historia gasped and tried to back away, everyone saw the panic that had filled her eyes. Ymir bared her teeth and Nótt grabbed the man’s wrist, but Annie spoke up before any other move could be made.

“If you _dare_ touch her,” she shouted, “I will make sure you are never allowed to see the light of day again!”

The MP officers froze, giving Nótt the chance to push the man away while Ymir stepped in front of Historia.

“An assault on Christa Renz is as good as an assault on the Leonhardt crown itself,” Annie snarled. “She is a ward of my father and a citizen of Liūtas, and you will _not_ try to impose your church’s idiocy on her. Get away from her _now_.”

The officers hurried backward. Annie ignored them to go to Historia, urging her along without speaking. They got into the carriage with Ymir, Mikasa gesturing for Hanji, Petra, and Nótt to get inside. She climbed up onto the driver’s seat with Levi and turned a cold eye on the servants and officers.

“Pass her majesty’s word to the king,” she said. She flicked her fingers at Levi, waiting until he had spurred the horses on before adding one more sentence over her shoulder.

With cruel satisfaction, she said, “Make sure he knows it’s _law_.”


	9. Daughters of Royalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan has not changed in the face of meeting Freida Reiss, and Mikasa swears it will not. In the end, Freida is another angle to use against Reiss in all their scheming.
> 
> Still, the Leonhardt empire is not to be renewed on ground painted with the blood of a child, and no one is willing to abandon a child if all her family dies with Reiss. With these conditions in mind, a plan is enacted to bring their group into contact with Freida on friendly terms.
> 
> Friendly, by way of a rescue from an attempted kidnapping.

Mikasa took no notice of the black clouds that had covered Mitras by the time they left the palace. Levi had glanced at the sky, but said nothing in favor of turning up his collar. He did not complain when the rain began to pour, instead taking more care in driving the carriage. The streets emptied fairly quickly when thunder rolled through them.

She stared into the middle distance, back straight and eyes half-closed. Her thoughts were not in a blinding whirl. Everything was focused and clear with one goal in mind. Breathing steadily, she waited in the rain and thought on her resources. Soon enough, the townhouses came into view; Armin, Eren, and Shardis were waiting outside with umbrellas.

“Corporal Levi,” Mikasa said.

“Yeah?”

“I have a task for you.”

He turned his head slightly. “Out of earshot, right?”

“Precisely. All of you will come inside.”

“Understood.” He brought the carriage to a gentle stop, climbing down as Mikasa did the same. Mikasa took the umbrellas Eren offered, ignoring his confusion, and opened one before opening the carriage door. Ymir climbed out first, followed by Petra and Hanji. They took the umbrellas as Mikasa offered them, but Ymir did not go far.

“Hvolpur,” she said, leaning into the carriage. “Come on, we’re home.”

A moment passed, but Historia came to the door. Her eyes were red and her face was pale. She got out of the carriage and walked past everyone to go inside. Annie came next, just as pale, but she took the umbrella Armin offered before getting out. Mikasa looked past her. Nótt sat unmoving, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Her eyes were closed, brows low over them.

“Nineteen eighty-seven,” Mikasa murmured. “I have need of your shadow.”

She opened her eyes and stood. “Ito ay sa iyo, huling anino.” Without a hint of hesitation in her steps, she got out of the carriage and went inside.

“Everyone inside,” Mikasa said. “You as well, Lieutenant-Colonel.”

Shardis nodded without question, and all of them went inside. Ymir started for the stairs, but Mikasa caught her by the back of her coat.

“Go to the den,” Mikasa said. “I’ll bring Historia.”

There was no arguing against the hard edge in her voice, and so Ymir went along with the others. Armin followed Mikasa up one set of stairs to fetch towels, but she continued up to the third floor. She took a moment to change into dry clothes, putting on her scarf before going to Ymir and Historia’s room. The door was ajar, but she still knocked.

“Historia,” she said. “I want you to come back downstairs. You need to be part of this conversation.” She did not jump when then door was wrenched open to show Historia, face twisted with rage and wet with new tears.

“Why didn’t any of you _know_?” Historia screamed at her. “Why did I have to see her like that? Why did I have to see that he has a daughter he _wanted_?” She coughed out a sob, eyes closing tight. “Why did he have to have a little girl as a shield?”

Historia hid her face in her hands and wept. “Why can’t we just win for once? Why does he always have the advantage?”

Mikasa knelt down before her and put her hands on her shoulders. “Historia, please look at me.”

Hiccuping, she raised her head.

“He has no advantage on us,” said Mikasa. “This girl is nothing more than a person we did not know about before. Absolutely nothing has changed.” She wiped away some of the tears on Historia’s face. “None of us meant to hurt you with this. I’m so sorry we didn’t get all of the facts and caused you pain.”

Historia rubbed her eyes, but could not stop the tears. She wrapped her arms around Mikasa’s shoulders, hiding her face. Mikasa held her close and waited patiently until Historia looked at her.

“I have a plan,” Mikasa said. “Please come downstairs. Ymir and Annie are worried about you.”

After a moment, she nodded and dried her face. She followed Mikasa downstairs and into the den. A small fire had been built before they arrived, and the others were waiting in silence and flickering light. Nótt stood at the fire, eyes closed and shadow massive on the far wall. Levi was close to her, rubbing his hair with a towel as his clothes dried slowly.

“Historia?” Ymir said. “Are you doing okay?”

“Not really,” Historia mumbled. She went to Ymir and resolutely sat in her lap. Though she stared at the floor for a moment, she looked at Mikasa.

“Corporal Levi,” Mikasa said. “Nótt. I need you to go out for information.”

“About that little hell spawn?” Levi grunted.

Mikasa looked at him with a raised brow. She looked around the room. “Let me make something clear. Freida Reiss is _not_ to be harmed.”

Levi sighed, frowning. “She’s gonna get in the way and you know it.”

She frowned in turned. “She’s even younger than Historia was when I took my assignment. Her life had no influence on the order for Annie and Historia’s lives. Regardless, she is a child. Under no circumstances should she be harmed.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but Annie cut him off by saying, “The renewed Leonhardt empire is not going to be built on ground painted with the blood of children. That is _my_ edict, Corporal.”

“And Historia doesn’t get a say?”

Historia sighed hard, frowning. “What are you even trying to argue for? That we should be like Reiss and try to kill a little girl?”

Levi raised a brow slowly, but he did not quail at the anger in her eyes. “I’m giving you the worst case scenario, Fürstin. If she’s got no one else—no mother, no siblings, no relatives—what’re you gonna do with her when everything’s in the open and Reiss kills himself? Take her back to Liūtas? Someone stays here to take care of the kid? I’m not doing it, and I don’t think anyone else wants to.”

“What about giving her to Uncia for training?” Eren asked. “She’d be safe and cared for, at least.”

“She’s too old,” Nótt said, “and too set in a civilian life. We cannot make her an assassin.”

“Now that I think about it,” Hanji said, looking at the ceiling, “this makes the inheritance of Sina more complicated as well. If Raugraves continues to support the Reiss household as the true rulers of Sina, he might try to argue that Freida has a stronger claim if she’s a legitimate heir.”

“We don’t know she is, though,” Petra said.

“When Freida came into the room, Reiss scolded her and said he had told her _before_ about running into meetings,” Mikasa said. “Which means that the other council members have seen her and know her name. She’s his legitimate child, that much is certain.”

“The uncertainty is the rest of her,” Nótt said quietly. “Her mother, if there are other children left alive.” Her voice darkened. “If his concern for her safety in the face of her majesty and huling anino was genuine. Or if all she really is to him is a shield.”

“Probably is,” Shardis muttered. “He throws our country into chaos because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. In any case, Levi’s right. The brat’s in the way at every turn and she’ll ruin Fürstin Historia’s move on the Sina throne.”

Mikasa looked at Annie, but found that Annie was looking at Historia closely. Historia’s gaze was once more aimed at the floor. One by one, the others followed Annie’s eyes to look at Historia. She did not look up.

“Historia,” Annie said.

“What?”

“Do you _want_ to take Sina’s throne?”

She went still, shoulders rising.

“Historia,” Annie said, softening her voice. “We’ve been assuming that’s what you wanted. That’s not right, is it.”

Historia inhaled and sighed faintly. “I want to go home, too, Annie. Sina’s not home. If Raugraves wants to give Freida the throne, she can have it.” She leveled another frown at Levi. “So we’re still not going to kill her.”

Levi sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, little fürstin, we’ll let her live.” He looked at Mikasa and said, “So what’s my intel job in this?”

“You’re going to go out to the common people of Mitras and see what kind of people—if any—know about Freida,” she replied. She turned to Nótt and said, “You’ll do the same through nobility. Find out about the Reiss family. Who is—or was—Freida’s mother? Does Freida have any siblings, or any aunts or uncles? Has Reiss been hiding her from the nobility as much as from the commoners? Find out anything and everything.

“But most importantly,” she said, “you two are to find out _why_ she has been kept a secret. Is there someone else that Reiss is worried about? I want no one to interfere in our plans.”

“All right,” Levi said. “What kinda reporting timeframe do you want?”

“Your deadline is ten days. If either of you come across anything you consider vital information, bring it to me immediately.”

“Got it,” said Levi, and he draped the wet towel over the gate before the fire. “I’ll see you in ten days at most.” He left the room, and they heard the front door open and close shortly thereafter.

Nótt checked her watch, wound it properly, and left the room. They heard her go upstairs at a jog, and the thump of her feet landing after jumping over the stairs entirely ten minutes later. She stopped in the doorway to the den, dressed in different clothes and carrying a small rucksack, and bowed deeply.

“Ten days at the most, huling anino,” she said, and she turned on her heels and left.

Mikasa turned to Shardis. “We caused a small stir outside the palace. Make sure no one so much as looks at either of our townhouses for the next few days.”

He smirked. “Gladly.” He left the room and the house entirely, umbrella in hand.

She then looked at Armin and Eren. “I can smell that you started making lunch. Please bring glasses and the whiskey we have before you continue cooking.”

“Yes ma’am,” they chorused, hurrying off together. They returned in less than a minute, leaving once more when Mikasa took the tray Armin carried. She went around the room, passing out glasses and pouring whiskey into them. When she had a glass as well, she went to stand near the fire and stared into the coals. She took a sip of whiskey, rubbing the glass with one finger.

“Historia?” she said.

Historia fought against shuddering against the burn of the whiskey in her mouth to look up. “What?”

“Do you think you can stand being introduced to her in the near future?”

“Wait a minute,” Ymir said. “Why should she have to do that?”

“Because Freida desperately wants to meet Annie,” Mikasa replied. “That will inevitably lead her to meeting Historia properly, and the rest of us as well.” She turned about, looking at Historia. “Freida is the key to ensuring that Rhode Reiss kills himself in the end. We need to turn her against him, and you’re the best person to do that.”

Historia met her gaze nervously. “You don’t want me to go into detail about things, do you?”

“No, nothing specific. She’s too young to hear the extent of her father’s doings. You just need to be kind to her through all of this, even when we leak your name and Reiss’ dealings to the rest of the world.” She smiled. “Once we have information from Nótt about Freida’s day-to-day activities, we’ll have Levi arrange an _incident_ with some lowlifes in the city. We’ll act as protectors and keep her from harm. It’ll guarantee that she’ll want us as regular visitors, or even to come here. When that’s started, it’ll be a simple task to show her that her father is scum.”

“And what about what Levi said?” Hanji asked.

Mikasa turned to them, raising a brow.

“If she’s got absolutely nowhere to go when Reiss is dead and Raugraves doesn’t support her, what do we do with her?” They looked down, voice growing soft. “She’s too little to leave on her own like that.”

The smile left Mikasa’s face completely. She exhaled slowly. “I have no intention of abandoning her if that’s what would happen. But I don’t know where we could put her or who could take her in.”

“What about having her as a ward of one of our houses?” Annie asked. “Not as an assassin if she went to the Ackerman or Basanti houses, just a ward.”

Mikasa looked at her for a time. She looked at the fire. “I need to name a young shadow as a ward of the Ackerman house to continue our lineage…but the Basanti house already has its heir in Nótt.” She inhaled slowly and let it out. “I’ll discuss it with her. I appreciate you offering to take her as a ward of the Leonhardt house if she refuses.”

“And you’re sure that she can get all of that information about Freida from the nobility?” Petra asked.

She smiled once as she turned to Petra. “I have as much faith in Nótt’s abilities as you have in Levi’s. We will have everything we need by the deadline.”

Petra hesitated, but nodded.

————

Levi returned first a week later, eyes dark from a lack of sleep. His exhaustion was deep enough that he did not frown at Eren when he brought a tray of food and drink to the den, instead grunting with a modicum of gratitude. Once he had drained half a pint of ale, he looked at all of them.

“If you had a feeling that no one _really_ knew about the brat,” he said to Mikasa, “you were right. The most people know on the street is that ‘Duke’ Rhode Reiss went pretty quiet eight years ago after getting married. Kinda like he got nervous about what could happen to his wifey-dear.”

“Is she still alive?” Mikasa asked.

“Nope,” he replied. “Passed away from some illness that kept her inside and out of sight, and that was just over six years ago.” He raised a brow slightly. “That’s about the kid’s age, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would.” She sighed. “Then her mother passed away in childbirth. There are no other children?”

“Not from what the citizens know. You’ll need your assassin’s info for what nobles know.” He looked over his shoulder for a moment. “Not back yet?”

“Soon enough. She still has three days.”

“Not worried?”

“Not in the slightest.” She tipped her head to him in a bow. “Thank you for your work. Rest well until she returns.”

He nodded in turn before tearing into his food. Two more days passed with no sign of Nótt. On the tenth day, late in the night past the summer sunset, Mikasa sat in the den reading. Her chair was in the corner facing the door, a lamp giving her light she did not need to read by. On hearing two sets of very light footsteps coming down the stairs, she looked up.

Annie was first to the door, followed by Historia. They were both dressed for sleep, but neither looked as though they had so much as lay down. Mikasa smiled and set her book aside.

“Are you getting worried about Nótt?” she asked.

“I thought she’d be back before your deadline,” Annie said. “You don’t think she drew too much attention to herself, do you?”

“No, not at all. She would not be unang anino if she was careless like that.”

“I hope I didn’t make her nervous about doing this,” Historia said quietly. “I was really mad at her in the palace.”

Mikasa felt a chill go up her spine and smiled more gently for it. “You have nothing to worry about. She knows that you were upset and she’s doing her utmost to keep it from happening again. She’ll be fine.” Because Historia still looked anxious, she chuckled and said, “You can ask her if she’s all right.”

“What?” Historia said, unaware of the shadow behind her.

“Turn around.”

Slow with confusion, Annie and Historia turned. Historia barely managed to cover her mouth to stop a scream of fright at the sight of Nótt behind them, bloodied, filthy, and wearing torn clothes. Nótt smiled cheerfully, utterly at odds with a black eye and bloody nose, and bowed.

“I apologize for taking so long,” she said. “I broke the watch I took with me.”

Annie and Historia gaped.

“I didn’t think you’d put yourself through _that_ much for your information gathering,” Mikasa said.

“It’s easier to slip through things here if I play the bâtard,” Nótt replied, ruffling her ash-blackened hair. “After I spoke more directly with nobles, of course.” She saw the horror in Annie and Historia’s faces and bowed again. “Please allow me to clean up. This is no way to look in front of you.” She turned and left the room, and Annie turned to stare at Mikasa.

“That counts as _fine_?” she said.

“More than fine,” Mikasa said, standing up. She headed into the kitchen, cobbling leftovers together into a meal. She felt Annie and Historia staring at her as she did, but she did not turn to face them until she had placed the food, a clean glass, and a bottle of wine on a tray.

“I promise she’s fine,” she said. “It’s a very old technique our assassins use to get information without arousing too much suspicion. She’ll explain what happened, so please don’t be anxious.” She brought them and the food back to the den, and they only waited a short while before Nótt returned. She wore clean clothes and her hair was no longer black. The knuckles of her right hand were bandaged; her rolled-up sleeves showed bandaging on both elbows. While there was no blood on her face, her black eye was all the more stark.

“What in Löwengöttin’s name happened to you?” Historia asked.

“Oh, just a bit of a scuffle with some MP officers,” Nótt said. She smiled as she adjusted the collar of her shirt. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Why did you get into a fight with the MP?” Annie asked.

She smirked. “They don’t take kindly to bâtard beggars on the streets the nobility wanders, your majesty. I got a little too close to someone and they called an officer on me.” She chuckled. “Well, they called one and two more came to assist.”

“Are you really okay?” Historia asked.

“Perfectly all right,” Nótt said. “We’re all very used to little pains like this. Playing the weak fool never ceases to provide us with remarkable intel.” She smirked once more. “Such as the habits and general schedule of Freida Reiss and her tutors.”

“Sit and eat a little first,” Mikasa said. “I can tell you were starving yourself for the ruse.” She passed the tray to Nótt, standing in the middle of the room while the others sat. They waited while Nótt ate with an odd mix of speed and decorum. When she had finished, the familiar lively cheer had returned to her smile.

“What information would you like to hear first?” she asked.

“Why keep her secret?” Historia asked. “Is someone else after the Reiss family?”

“Fortunately, no,” Nótt replied. “Little Freida Reiss was premature and her mother passed away in childbirth. Reiss, with no other family members in either his or his departed wife’s family, has been incredibly protective of her ever since. A number of nobles are aware of her, but they keep quiet out of respect for her mother’s passing and Reiss’ anxiety. He seems to want to avoid tempting fate when it comes to her health and safety.”

“No wonder she wanted to meet me, then,” Annie murmured. “I rank highly enough that she knew I’d be allowed anywhere near her, and I’m the most interesting person she’s likely to meet in her childhood.”

“In one, your majesty. And your recent meeting seems to have made Freida very bold. Her tutors are taking her on more small excursions in well-patrolled parts of the city. You can see how nervous they still are in letting her near people that aren’t on their usual rounds.” She sighed. “It’s a shame, really. She’d fare much better if she was allowed to be outside and with other people more often.”

“Don’t tell me you took a shine to her,” Mikasa chuckled.

“She’s a charming little girl,” Nótt said with a shrug. “I can’t deny it, and I can’t help wanting her to have more freedom.” She sighed again. “I hope we can avoid frightening her too much when we enact whatever you’ve planned, huling anino.”

“We’ll do our best,” Mikasa said. “It does have to be convincing, though.” She closed her eyes to think, arms behind her back. After a time, she said, “We’ll see who Levi can drum up for a kidnapping in broad daylight.”

————

Certain laws in Mitras could be bent for those in noble houses. While the common people could not legally carry blades longer than four inches in public, nobles could openly carry full swords, and revolvers or pistols could be worn under coats. Because of this, no one looked askance at Mikasa when she began to wear her sword on her back whenever she left the townhouse. Given that she always accompanied Annie, it was praised as sensible caution.

Over the course of one week, the sightseeing walks Mikasa went on with Annie, Historia, Ymir, and Nótt taught her the layout of the streets, their typical foot traffic, and the points at which their paths could cross with Freida Reiss and her tutors. She made sure to avoid Freida in that week and instead plotted out where the kidnappers would have the least trouble catching their prey. It was determined to be the bookstore after one more information hunt from Nótt. The reading tutor, one Valentine Morrel, trusted the bookstore owner to not let Freida leave without her. By then, Nótt’s injuries had healed completely, and Levi had found their kidnappers.

“Are you ready to meet her properly?” Mikasa asked Historia the night Levi gave his report.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied. “But don’t let her get hurt, okay? We don’t need to do that.”

“We won’t,” Nótt said. “Don’t worry.”

It was left to a rough timetable. Freida and Valentine arrived at the bookstore at ten in the morning every Wednesday and stayed for at least one hour. Levi had ordered the kidnapping be done within twenty minutes of their arrival, and it would be within that twenty minutes that Mikasa would arrive with Annie, Historia, Ymir, and Nótt. The only gamble would be if they caught sight of the kidnappers as they left the shop.

“Think they have any books from Úlfurheim here?” Ymir asked as they headed up the main thoroughfare at seven minutes past ten. “I’m dying for a story from the north.”

“You might be able to ask them to order something,” Historia said.

“There’s an author from the north my mother particularly favors,” Nótt said. “We could look for their work as well.” She smiled. “If nothing else, I could ask her to send you a few of the newer books.”

Ymir’s brows rose before she grinned. “Really?”

“Of course,” Nótt replied, tipping her head in a bow. As they rounded the corner for the smaller street the bookstore was on, she added, “We have a number of northern books in our private library. I’d be happy to—”

“ _Freida_!”

All of them, Mikasa included, jumped at the intense panic in the shout. Nótt pulled Ymir out of the way of the woman who had shouted as she ran for the main street. Utterly white, tears in her eyes, she looked up and down the street.

“ _Freida_!” she shouted again.

From far down the side street, there was the faint, terrified scream of, “ _Miss Valentine!_ ”

They all turned in time to see three men in cloaks running away and turning a corner. As they turned, Freida briefly came into view, carried in one man’s arms. The look of terror in her eyes, tears on her face, was enough to make Historia gasp and Annie and Ymir go pale.

Mikasa sprinted after them, even as Valentine screamed Freida’s name once more. She turned the same corner, vaulting over upturned waste bins without slowing. The sound of running footsteps was just audible, out of time with her own. The alley ended abruptly, throwing her into another proper street. She dodged a couple walking hand in hand as she turned sharply, having caught sight of the men on her right side.

She stayed in the street itself for cover, running hard to keep pace. She saw one man turn to look back, but his gaze was aimed at the alley without looking at the street. He lowered his hood then, revealing his thin face and sallow cheeks. He ducked into another store, the two others following. Scowling, Mikasa dashed back onto the sidewalk and threw herself bodily at the closed door. It shattered under the blow, wood splintering as the hinges sheared off the doorframe.

The sallow-cheeked man was in the middle of opening a trapdoor beneath a pulled-back rug. Another man was tossing his cloak aside. The third man, still in his cloak, was in the middle of tying a gag into Freida’s mouth as she struggled in his arms. They all stared at her, Freida going still, before the sallow-cheeked man dropped the trapdoor.

“Run!” he bellowed, and he reached under his coat. Mikasa let the others escape out a backdoor, running across the room even as she drew her sword. One hand she slammed against the man’s elbow, keeping him from drawing his pistol. She drove her sword through one of his legs at the thigh, twisting the blade as she drew back. As he fell, screaming, she grabbed the pistol and threw it far out of reach.

The other men had not gotten far by the time Mikasa broke down the other door, sword sheathed to let her run easier. They were only some yards ahead to the right in the alley behind the shops, hesitating as they listened. Because she saw Freida struggling once again, Mikasa let anger fill her eyes. The men went pale and started to run.

The alley was mostly empty, a long winding path that Mikasa had scouted herself. She kept at a slight distance, studying the fit of their clothes and their running gait. The second man was carrying a gun under his long coat, but she could not tell if the third man was armed beneath his cloak. She ran faster upon seeing a shadow on a roof at the end of the alley. The second man finally reached under his coat, grabbing the third man as he drew a revolver. They both stopped running and faced her.

“That’s far enough, bitch!” the man said, and he aimed the revolver at Freida’s head.

Mikasa slid to a stop and lifted her hands.

“Thought so,” the man said with a sneer. “You just back off or the brat gets a new hole in the head.”

“I didn’t think Mitras dealt with kidnapping scum like you,” Mikasa said. In the corner of her eye, she saw the shadow drop down into the alley, resolving into Nótt.

“She’ll get a pretty price, I’d wager,” the man said.

“A duke’s daughter likely would,” Mikasa replied.

The sneer on the man’s face fell. He went bone pale. “A…a duke’s?” His grip on the gun loosened.

Nótt moved in, putting one hand under the man’s and using the other to bend his elbow. Before he could react, she had him face-first against a wall, the gun in his hand pressed to his own temple. The third man had no time to gasp from surprise before Mikasa had lunged forward. She scooped Freida out of his arms on the inhale and spun on her heel to smash one boot against his jaw on the exhale. He whirled away and collapsed with his bloody face in the dirt.

Without missing a step, Mikasa walked out of the alley at a slow pace. She took the gag from Freida’s mouth gently as Nótt dragged the conscious man out of the alley behind them. As planned, they emerged a few shops away from the bookstore. Historia noticed them first, hurrying over with Ymir and Annie trailing.

“Where’d the young woman go?” Mikasa asked.

“Getting MP officers,” Historia replied. Her face twisted at the sight of Freida clutching Mikasa’s coat, genuine sympathy in her eyes. She did not hesitate in taking Freida to free Mikasa’s arms, patting her back. “It’s all right, Vögelchen, it’s all right. You’re safe now.” She let Freida bury her face in her shoulder and cry in gut-wrenching sobs.

Nótt ripped the revolver from the man’s hand, tossing it to the ground before Mikasa. Drawing her sword, Mikasa stepped forward, stomping down on the revolver hard enough to deform the barrel. She waited until Nótt had wrenched the man’s arms behind his back to hold him before setting the tip of her sword near his eye. He stopped struggling immediately, grimacing.

“So,” Mikasa said quietly, “you were going to sell her. Did you have a buyer lined up?”

“No,” he muttered.

“Then why take her?”

“Got a tip about a pretty brat. Said we could get a good price and all they wanted was a cut from it.”

“How unfortunate,” she said. “Now you get to have Duke Reiss demolishing your cartel.”

The man scowled despite going pale. Mikasa nodded to Nótt and drew her sword back. Frowning darkly, Nótt swept the man’s legs out from beneath him and drove his face into the ground. He went limp as she stood up.

“There’s a broken back door down the alley,” Mikasa said. “The last kidnapper should still be in there with a significant leg wound. I disarmed him, but be cautious. Drag him here.”

Nótt bowed and went off at a run. Mikasa kept watch, looking over her shoulder every so often. Historia still held Freida close, Annie at their side and Ymir looking toward the main street. Nótt returned in short order, dragging both men by their throats. She tossed them onto their unconscious compatriot as running footsteps came up from the main street. First around the corner was a trio of MP officers, but Valentine was only a few paces behind.

“Oh God— _Freida_!” she said, running to Historia. She dropped down on one knee, touching Freida’s arm. “Freida, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“She should be uninjured,” Mikasa said, sheathing her sword as the officers went to the pile of men. She walked to them, putting her hand lightly on Freida’s head. “Miss Freida? Does anything hurt?”

Freida looked up slowly, hiccuping from the force of her crying. She sniffled and shook her head.

“That’s a relief,” Annie said, smiling gently at her.

Freida looked at her and froze. Her eyes went wide. Valentine followed her gaze; her jaw dropped. She shot to her feet to bow deeply, first to Annie and then to Mikasa.

“Bless you _both_ ,” she said. “God, _thank you_.” She straightened up and offered her hand, but blushed and started to pull away.

Mikasa lifted a hand to make her pause, reaching out to take Valentine’s hand and shaking. “I’m glad to have helped. Children should be safe and sound. Will you and Freida be all right, Miss?”

With a whimper, Freida wrapped her arms around Historia’s neck and hid her face once more.

“Er,” Valentine said. She looked between Freida, Annie, and Mikasa. “We…um. Oh dear.”

Annie, still smiling, touched Freida’s shoulder. Once she had looked up, Annie asked, “Would you feel safer if we accompanied you home?”

Freida sniffed and nodded.

The blush on Valentine’s face darkened. “If—if it wouldn’t be a bother, your majesty.”

“It’s all right,” Annie said. She looked at the officers and asked, “Is there anything you need from us?”

“Not presently, your majesty,” one man said. “We’ll come to the duke’s later for a statement.”

“Check the floor of the shop with a broken door down the alley,” Nótt said to the officers. “The conscious one was trying to escape through it when I arrived.”

The officers turned to her, starting to salute, and faltered at the sight of her skin. She smiled and bowed; they hurried to salute properly. Valentine led them away, guiding them through the streets as quickly as she could. The sight of the large four-story manor they came to made tension ratchet up in Mikasa’s spine. Even at a distance, she could see the window she had climbed through years ago.

Guards at the gate hesitated on seeing their approach, moving as though they would bring their rifles to bear. Valentine hurried on ahead to secure safe passage, and she brought them at last to a large den. Historia sat down on a lounge, letting Freida settle in her lap. Annie sat beside them, smiling again when Freida looked up.

“Thank you for helping me,” Freida said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Annie said. “But it’s really Mikasa and Nótt who helped the most.”

Freida turned about, looking at Mikasa and Nótt as they bowed to her. She looked down shyly and said, “Thank you.”

“Reichsgräfin Ackerman has a deep aversion to letting children be harmed,” Nótt said, “as do I. I’m relieved we could help as much as we did, Vögelchen.”

Freida looked at her, but turned to Historia. “You called me that, too.”

“It means ‘little bird,’” Historia said. “It’s something young children are called in Liūtas.” She smiled; there was no sign it was forced. “You’re _very_ little, Miss Freida.”

The smile that came to Freida was hesitant, still deeply shy. She asked, “Are you and Nótt from Liūtas, too?”

“We are,” Historia replied. “Nótt is from a good noble family that supports Annie, and I was a ward of Kaiser Matvey’s. My name is Christa Renz.”

A touch of awe appeared in Freida’s eyes. She turned to look at Ymir. “Are you related to Nótt?”

“On her mom’s side, yeah,” Ymir said. “That’s where Nótt’s wolf blood comes from.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you know stories from the north? They never have new books from the north here!”

“I know a bunch, but I don’t have any books either.” She jabbed a thumb at Nótt. “We were talking about her mom sending northern books our way if we couldn’t find any at the shop.”

Freida put her hands over her mouth, utterly starstruck.

Valentine smiled anxiously. “I apologize. My husband Maximillien is of Úlfurheim descent and she fell in love with the northern stories he’s told me.”

Ymir smirked at Nótt, who chuckled as she went to sink down on one knee before Historia and Freida.

“Do you know the story of Lady Mond, Vögelchen?” Nótt asked. “How she came to the wolves of Úlfurheim and blessed them with her favor?”

Freida shook her head, and Nótt took a breath to speak again. She stopped short at the sound of running footsteps in the hall. She and Mikasa turned in time to see Rhode Reiss run through the doorway, pale and frantic. He only had eyes for Freida, and he rushed straight for her. With speed that seemed courteous, Nótt lifted Freida out of Historia’s lap and met Reiss halfway. When Freida was in his arms, she stepped back and blocked Historia from his view.

“Your grace, I’m so sorry,” Valentine said, going pale as her shoulders trembled. “I don’t know what happened—we were side-by-side in the shop like always, but—but then she was gone and—”

“Freida, are you hurt at all?” Reiss asked, holding tight.

“I’m okay,” Freida replied. “Reichsgräfin Ackerman and Nótt helped me.”

Reiss froze. He looked up, seeing Nótt first. She set a hand over her heart and bowed her head slightly. He turned, his hold tightening further upon seeing Mikasa. She put a hand over her heart and bowed her head as well.

“It pains me to see a child put through an ordeal like this,” she said. “If you would like any assistance in hunting down the network of vermin that would try to take a child from her father, your grace, please feel free to call upon my house.”

He stared openly at her. He cleared his throat, swallowed, and said, “Thank you, Countess. I may do that.”

She looked up at him before smiling at Freida. “Will you be all right now, Miss Freida?”

There was a trace of hesitation before Freida nodded, one that Mikasa saw clearly. Freida said, “I’ll be fine now that Papa’s home.”

“I see,” Mikasa said. “In that case, we’ll take our leave.”

Annie saw the dejection in Freida’s eyes and said, “You’re free to call on us as well. Nótt and Ymir owe you stories about the north, after all.”

“Really?” Freida asked, breathless and hopeful.

“Of course,” Annie said before Reiss could protest. “We don’t have much to do in Mitras, so it would be nice to have you as a guest.”

“Please, Papa?” Freida said, begging in her voice. “ _Please_?”

Reiss stood frozen, unable to stop staring at Mikasa. He only turned when Freida tugged on his coat. The plea in her eyes weakened him. His smile was indulgent as he patted her back.

“All right, sweetheart,” he said. “If her majesty and the others have the time, you can visit.”

Freida put her hands over her mouth to hide her massive smile, and she hugged him before he set her on her feet.

“Now go on with Valentine,” he said. “I’ll come read with you after I talk a little with the Military Police, all right?”

“Yes, Papa!” she said, and she hurried to Valentine. She took her hand to be led away, and Reiss’ smile faded as he looked at Mikasa. She looked back with a mild expression.

“Have,” Reiss said, “have we…met before, Countess?”

“Not before the other day in the palace,” Mikasa lied. She smiled. “Unless I’ve forgotten it, your grace.” She bowed her head. “Allow us to take our leave. You should be with your daughter after such an ordeal. If the MP need us, they will be able to find us at our temporary residence.”

“Thank you again,” Reiss said. As they started to leave, he said, “Your address, Countess. Wasn’t it eighteen-oh-two something or other?”

Mikasa did not bother turning about as she chuckled and said, “There are no townhouses numbered that high, sir.”

Historia walked by him, adding, “We’re at number thirty on the Elysium Boulevard.”

Watching over her shoulder, Mikasa saw Reiss looking at Historia, and her at him. Their eyes met. Historia raised a brow and continued on, ignoring the way Reiss turned ash gray. Mikasa waited until Historia had gone to join the others before she turned slightly and tipped her head.

“Until we meet again,” said Mikasa. “Give Mis Freida our best.” She started to turn away.

“Ackerman!” Reiss said.

She stopped. “Yes, your grace?”

“Why are you here?”

Mikasa chuckled. “I’m here to ensure that Annie returns to Liūtas safely and without being hindered.” Her smile darkened. “More eloquently put, my goal is to _return_ Liūtas’ sun.” She turned away and said, “Her…and her sister.” She lifted a hand in parting and left without another word.

The others were waiting for her outside. She looked at Historia first, smiling because there was fierce satisfaction in Historia’s smile. Ymir offered Historia her arm and Mikasa offered Annie hers. Smirking, Nótt led the way back to the townhouse. When they were inside and well away from any doors or windows, Historia grinned and pulled Ymir into a fast waltz.

“She wants to visit us!” she laughed. “It worked!”

“Better than that,” Ymir said, “she didn’t look too happy to stay with him! This is perfect!”

Mikasa looked at Annie with a smile. “Exactly as planned, Leon-Hiyas. Just a little while longer.”

Annie, smiling in turn, caught Mikasa’s scarf and tugged her down for a light kiss. “I think now may be a good time to start leaking Historia’s name in Liūtas.”

“I get to write the letter to Erwin!” Historia said, and she giggled when Ymir picked her up to spin around. Mikasa was certain she had never seen someone write a letter with more glee, and she was deeply happy to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ito ay sa iyo, huling anino." - It is yours, huling anino.


	10. What Visitors Bring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to counter any move Reiss could make, Mikasa brings in Uncia's coordinator, the son and heir of an old friend. His orders are simple: protect both their house and Freida Reiss against any harm.
> 
> For a brief moment, it all seems simple, even when Freida and her tutor arrive for a visit. What Valentine brings with her removes any simplicity, and instead brings a deadline. In one month, everything will come to a head. What remains to be seen is whose end it will be, and how it will come.
> 
> Because while plans can be made to work against Reiss' threats, it will be far more difficult to predict what will happen when the queen of Úlfurheim arrives at the masquerade ball and meets Mikasa once again.

All estimates put Historia’s letter to Erwin arriving in two weeks’ time. From then, they placed bets on when word would creep back to Sina. Eren gladly bet two silver that it would only take another two weeks, and Nótt lay down three silver on three weeks, but word coming through the nobility first.

“Unless our reporter friend Miss Auberon catches wind of this for an article,” she said, “I’m sure the margrave will be sending a panicked letter to Raugraves and Reiss the minute he hears Historia’s name. It’ll start to trickle down from there.”

“I hope it makes Soames panic,” Historia said with a grin smile. “He deserves it.”

Mikasa did not make any comments that night, only cleaning her sword thoroughly. When the others went to bed, she remained awake and held Annie in bed. Once Annie had settled into sleep completely, Mikasa got out of bed and went to the room at the front of the house on the top floor. She slipped inside and locked the door behind her.

As instructed, Nótt had procured several weapons and stored them in the furnished room. Mikasa checked the pistols and long-range rifle, verifying they were clean and ready for use. Their ammunition was stored in a safe hidden in a dresser; she took a moment to count everything. Knives and Nótt’s personal sword were hung neatly on one wall, hidden behind heavy curtains, and she counted them. This done, she went to another safe in a corner, opening it to retrieve the assassination orders Reiss had sent in years ago. As she reviewed them, she paced in the dark, silent room.

True to form, the only warning Mikasa received of Nótt unlocking the door was the chill that went up her spine. She stopped pacing as Nótt came inside, waiting until the door was locked before starting to pace again.

“Is something wrong, huling anino?” Nótt asked. “I wouldn’t have expected you to still be awake.”

“Reiss knows Historia is alive and is with us,” Mikasa replied. “I’m thinking about how long it’ll take him to react.”

“He strikes me as a hasty idiot,” Nótt said. “It may be by the end of the week.”

Mikasa considered the orders a while longer before sighing through her nose. “If not sooner. It’s a question of who he thinks is the easiest target at the moment, but I can’t tell if it’s Annie or Historia.”

Nótt went still. For the first time in Mikasa’s memory, she fidgeted.

“What’s wrong?” Mikasa asked.

“May…I make a suggestion?”

“What is it?”

“Well,” Nótt murmured, “I think you’re taking yourself and Ymir out of the equation too soon.”

Brow raised, head tilted slightly, Mikasa asked, “How so?”

“As it stands…Reiss has no reason to believe that you have any support from Uncia, let alone that you lead our shadows now,” Nótt said. “For all he knows, I’m only here as a Liūtan noble. He would have no reason to view you as anything but someone to eliminate immediately.”

“And Ymir?”

“It’s public knowledge that she’s romantically involved with Historia. I fear he’ll target Ymir to provoke a reaction from Historia or Annie.”

“Those are fair points,” Mikasa said, “but let me ask you something.”

Nótt stood straighter. “Yes ma’am?”

“In the twelve years I was imprisoned, has another organization of assassins come to rival us? I would think that someone else was named unang anino when you were younger, at least as an interim.”

“Seventeen-oh-three agreed to be unang anino until I turned sixteen,” Nótt said. “If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have gotten word about the attempt on me and ten-oh-five. But no one has dared to try a stunt like that again. Not after we hunted down the rest of nineteen-oh-nine’s comrades.”

Mikasa smiled. “Then do you agree that there’s no one out there as skilled as our shadows?”

“I do, but…I’ve been taught that a wild dog can be more dangerous than a wolf if the dog is desperate enough.” She sighed. “I’ve grown fond of everyone and I don’t want them hurt because Reiss managed to slip by us.”

Her smile grew softer. “You were taught much more caution than I was.” She glanced at the papers in her hand before looking Nótt in the eye. “All right, what would _your_ move be in these circumstances?”

“Mine?”

“You’ll become huling anino after me. I want to know how you would respond to this if you were in my position.” She chuckled. “Ten-oh-five would spring questions like this on me all the time.”

For a few seconds, Nótt fumbled in speaking. She swallowed to stop herself and said, “I would…bring more of our shadows into Mitras for protection. For, er, for us and Miss Freida.”

Mikasa’s smile widened. “Why for Miss Freida?”

“To make it clear that she won’t be harmed. I feel it would push Reiss to the brink if she learned _everything_ and came to hate him.” Looking down, she added, “And I’m still not convinced that he wouldn’t kill her. Or even try to frame _you_ if something happened to her while we were here.”

“I’m not convinced, either,” Mikasa said quietly. “Something bothers me about how easily he let us leave today. How he just to let Freida visit us without arguing…despite knowing exactly who I am.” She began to fold the orders back up. “I’m in agreement with you—we need more shadows here. Who’s our coordinator at the moment?”

“Nineteen forty-two,” Nótt replied.

Mikasa went still. She looked at Nótt. “Nineteen forty-two? _Sohan Arav_?”

She grinned. “Seventeen-oh-three’s first and only heir in Uncia. He’ll be very happy to work with us.”

Mikasa thought for a moment before sputtering with laughter. “She had taken him in a year before I was named unang anino. Of course he would be pagtugmain at twenty-three.” She shook her head, smiling. “Your generation is even faster than mine was.”

“Shall I send a letter to him tomorrow?”

“Yes, and by hawk,” said Mikasa. “I want him in Mitras as soon as possible to discuss this.”

She bowed her head, hand over her heart. “It will be done.” She looked up with a smile. “Please get some rest, huling anino. I’m sure her majesty will be confused if she wakes up alone.”

“I will,” Mikasa chuckled. She went to return the orders to the safe, but paused after locking it. “Nótt, there’s something that came up while you were getting information. If Freida has nowhere to go when this is over, could the Basanti house take her in as a ward?”

Nótt’s brows rose. She looked up and to the right. She looked down, tapping her chin. “I don’t see any issue with that. If I explain the circumstances, I’m sure Mother and Father would be happy to have her. Miss Freida is very sweet, after all.”

“That’s a relief,” Mikasa said. “I would prefer to not cause her undue hardship.”

“She’ll be looked after if she comes to the Basanti house, I promise.”

Mikasa smiled, beckoned Nótt to follow her out of the room, and locked the door behind them. They went back to their rooms, and Mikasa wrapped herself around Annie before falling asleep.

————

The instructions for the staff had been simple after the Military Police had come for a statement: reporters were not to be shown inside until they had met with Mikasa or Nótt outside. Levi and Shardis took great pleasure in enforcing this; they were often able to drive the reporters off with nothing but a glare. With this system in place, there was no anxiety over most everyone going out into Mitras. They never returned to unwelcome guests, nor to anyone lingering on the sidewalk looking for an interview. Mikasa was glad to have the opportunity to go out with Annie simply for a stroll, regardless of curious stares aimed at them.

For five days after Freida’s false kidnapping, everything was quiet. Nótt reported no one prowling around their townhouses, either in the day or at night. The MP’s patrols did not increase around them. The only noteworthy even was the arrival of a thank-you letter from Freida and Valentine, at the end of which was a child-written request to visit. Annie wrote the reply, and on the sixth day went out with Mikasa to deliver it to the post office.

“I wonder if Reiss allowed her to put that on the letter,” Annie said as they left the office.

“She might’ve added it when Miss Morrel wasn’t looking,” Mikasa replied. “It seems to be her style.”

Annie smirked and took Mikasa’s arm when she offered it. They headed back, the streets nearly empty in the mid-morning hour. Mikasa kept an ear out for unfamiliar footsteps, but heard nothing but hers and Annie’s. When they came to the corner that would bring them onto the Elysium Boulevard, she relaxed slightly with familiarity. The relaxation vanished when she saw an extremely tall man walking in their direction on the other end of the sidewalk.

Even taller than Bertholdt, he was of Pardian descent. His black trousers, heavy boots of the same color, and white button-down shirt were all of a fine cut and perfectly clean. His dark gray waistcoat gave her pause, as she could not see what the red embroidery over his heart was. He carried a kitbag over one shoulder and was counting the numbers on the townhouses. He stopped at number thirty and was not cowed by Levi’s glare.

“Stay behind me a moment,” Mikasa whispered, and she slowed her stride as Annie dropped back. She listened as they drew closer.

“Is this where I might find her royal majesty Annie Leonhardt?” the man asked with a pleasant smile.

Levi’s glare darkened; he started to sneer.

The man chuckled. “Ah, I see. This _is_ her residence, then. And you’re Corporal Levi.”

Levi’s brows twitched.

“Your face is _very_ telling,” the man said, still smiling. “May I ask if Viscountess Nótt Basanti is here at the moment?”

Mikasa’s brows rose as her shoulders dropped.

“Stay out here,” Levi grumbled, and he went inside. The man settled in to wait, watching the door without fidgeting. Mikasa let out the breath she had been holding, smiling as she gave Annie her arm again. As they covered the last bit of distance, she dragged one heel on the ground. It caught the man’s attention; his smile grew bright when he saw her.

“You were _much_ smaller the last time we met,” she told him. “That must have been an interesting series of growth spurts.” She smirked at his gold eyes and black hair. “It certainly helps you look like her son.”

He laughed and bowed, hand over his heart. “My mothers send you their warmest regards, Reichsgräfin.” He bowed even more deeply to Annie and said, “And to you as well, your majesty. They will be glad to hear you’re in good health.”

Annie looked at Mikasa with a raised brow.

“Allow me to introduce you to Sohan Arav,” Mikasa said. “He’s—have you taken your rank?”

Sohan stood straight to reply. “I did early this year when my grandparents stepped down.”

“Ah. Then it’s Agalon Arav at this point.”

He smirked. “Which Nótt hasn’t forgiven me for.”

“It’s not as though Reichsgraf Basanti _has_ to step down now that Nótt is of age. He’s certainly much younger than Bao and Jaya, if I recall correctly.” She gestured to the townhouse. “Please come in. Nótt has been looking forward to your arrival.”

He bowed his head a moment before following them inside. As Mikasa turned the lock, Historia leaned out from the den with her violin and bow in hand and curiosity in her eyes. Her shoulders rose as she looked up and up at Sohan; his brows rose when he saw her.

“Goodness, you’re small,” he remarked.

Annie snorted with laughter as Historia blushed bright red.

“Who’s calling you ‘small’?” Ymir said from the den. She walked to the door, looking indignant, but stared when she arrived. “Um. Fair, I guess.”

“I tend to have this effect on shorter women,” he said sheepishly. “I know I’m very tall.”

“Not too tall for your tiny wife,” a voice called down the stairs.

They all turned to see Nótt hurrying down the stairs, grinning to counter Levi’s glower. Grinning back, Sohan set his bag down to lift Nótt off of her feet in a hug.

“It’s been a little while, Asul-Leon,” he chuckled.

“Because you never come to Liūtas, Roten Drachen,” she replied.

“Lemme guess,” Ymir sighed. “You’re like Mikasa and Nótt.”

Sohan glanced at Mikasa. She looked at Levi. Levi sighed noisily, rolled his eyes, and went back outside. When Sohan had locked the door behind him, Mikasa gestured for all of them to follow her into the den. She remained on her feet as the others sat, nodding when Sohan hesitated at a chair.

“Okay, what goofy number are you?” Ymir asked, loosening the bow for her cello to put away.

“Nineteen forty-two,” he replied, tipping his head to her. “Your name is Ymir, isn’t it?”

She froze. “Why do you know that?”

“Nótt wrote a little about all of you,” he said. He smiled and added, “My mother would like to apologize again for how she treated you in Xenten”

“How she—” She went pale. “Your mother is the scarred-up assassin, isn’t she.”

“She is, and she really does apologize. She tries to avoid frightening people nowadays.”

“She’s really bad at it,” Ymir grumbled.

“She knows. My other mother and I chastise her for it.”

Ymir let out another grumble, but it was wordless and without malice. “So why’re you here?”

“My title within Uncia is pagtugmain,” he replied. “I am here to coordinate our shadows per the orders of huling and unang anino. They are deeply concerned for your safety.”

Mikasa held up a hand when the others looked at her in surprise. “Orders of litgas are in place for all of you, but that doesn’t mean Reiss won’t hire someone else to try to kill us. I’m not willing to risk _anyone_ when we have an army to call on.”

“What do you mean by ‘army’?” Annie asked. “I don’t want a war breaking out between Sina and Liūtas.”

“An army of shadows, your majesty,” Nótt said. “Our numbers and talents rival that of a military force.”

“Your _numbers_?” Historia asked.

Sohan chuckled. “Our active shadows number six hundred, milady. The entirety of our living shadows totals eight hundred and seventy three, many who would be happy to assist if need be. Most of us reside in Pardus, but Sina, Úlfurheim, and Liūtas have no fewer than one hundred assassins each.”

Annie, Historia, and Ymir’s jaws dropped.

Mikasa’s brows rose as she said, “I hadn’t thought we’d have grown that much in the last decade.”

“Ten-oh-five decided to bring more people into the fold after the attempt on her life. It’s bred more loyalty, thank goodness.”

“And we’re allowed to be a bit more relaxed about who we speak to about all this,” Nótt added, smiling.

“So—we’re going to have even _more_ bodyguards?” Ymir asked.

“At a respectable distance,” Sohan replied. “I won’t be staying here—Nótt said she would find me lodgings for the duration.”

“Then what’s the plan?” Historia asked.

“We’re going to take advantage of the attraction all of us have,” Mikasa said. “Citizens of Liūtas will travel here for Annie and Historia, those from Úlfurheim will come for Nótt and Ymir, and those from Pardus will come for me. If we’re lucky, the numbers will make Reiss even more paranoid and drive him to Uncia sooner.”

“You _want_ him to hire assassins?” Ymir asked.

“He has to find out his usual methods won’t work,” Annie said. “Right as word comes in about Historia. We’ll make sure he understands how useless he is, little by little.”

Mikasa, smiling, set a hand over her heart and bowed her head. “Exactly.”

Sohan reached into his bag, retrieving a small notebook. He opened it to its bookmark string, considering what was written on the pages. He hummed and tapped his chin with his thumb.

“Nótt,” he said, “is it safe to say your mother is still in close contact with civilian nobles as well as our shadows in Úlfurheim?”

“It is,” she replied. “She gets news from my cousin, Ian.” She thought for a moment before chuckling. “She’s told me how strongly Drottning Schreiber feels about what happened in Liūtas, given what happened before her own coronation.”

“Then I’ll send letters to Ian, to the Ström house for five of their shadows, and one letter to House Schreiber on behalf of her majesty. That should give us enough wolves in Sina for now. I know how this country treats you otherwise.”

He went silent as he reviewed the notebook. “There are…twenty of our shadows within a ten mile radius of Mitras at the moment.” He flipped a few pages to check something. “Seventeen of whom are _not_ on assignment. The three others are more than thirty miles from home.” He tapped his chin again, brows low as he thought and read. “Forty Pardian shadows scattered along the border to Sina, thirty-four not on assignment.” He flipped through more pages. “And…thirty-seven shadows on the Liūtan coast. Twenty-eight not on assignment.”

“Are any of those assassins part of noble houses?” Annie asked.

“Yes, your majesty,” Sohan replied. “The Liebert family and the Jaekel family. Three active shadows each, including the heads of the houses.”

“I’ll write to them,” she said. “Tell me what to add to make them know this is also an order from Mikasa.”

He bowed his head. “Of course, your majesty.”

“Assign at least two shadows to keep watch over Freida Reiss as well,” Mikasa said.

Historia looked at her, brows coming together. “Please don’t tell me you think he’ll _put_ her in danger.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Mikasa replied. “It’s not something I want to risk.”

“I’m sure he’d do it, Historia,” Annie murmured. “If only to threaten you.”

“Wha— _me_?” Historia said. “Why would he use her to do that?”

“To show you how little he would care about trying to kill you again.” She looked Historia in the eye and said, “He tried to have you murdered when you were barely older than her. Honestly, no matter how sweet he acts to her in front of people, I’m never going to believe he cares enough about her to keep her safe.”

Historia looked at her a few moments more before sighing and looking down. “I know. You’re right.”

“I’ll be more than happy to assign our shadows to watch her,” Sohan said. “As well as place an order of litgas on her for safety’s sake.”

“Thank you,” Historia said. She looked up at him and asked, “How soon will all of these assassins be here?”

“Those near here will arrive within a day of receiving their orders,” he replied. “Those from Liūtas and Úlfurheim will take approximately two weeks, depending on how fast the hawks fly and how close they are to a port. Those near or in Pardus will take twenty days or so.

“And how many are you going to call here?” Ymir asked.

“Seventeen from Sina, six from Úlfurheim for now, ten from Liūtas, and seven from Pardus. I may send for several more from each for caution’s sake before you depart for Liūtas.”

“What’s the cover story for you coming to see us?” Annie asked.

Sohan laughed. “The real story of visiting my dear friend Nótt while showing that the nobility of Pardus is also in support of you, your majesty! I haven’t visited Nótt for over a year, so there’s quite a lot to talk about.” He smirked and, looking at Nótt, said, “Such as Asmara ordering me to make you visit her and twenty-fifteen.”

Nótt looked at him blankly. “Who?”

His smirk broadened. “Aren’t you wondering why Asmara didn’t come with me to help coordinate?”

“A bit, but—” She stared. “Oh, you _ass_. You didn’t even _write_ that she was pregnant.”

He laughed. “She expects you to come visit as soon as possible when this is settled because they’re not able to travel right now. We’re both very proud of our little girl.”

Ymir snickered. “By our lady’s eye, Mitras is gonna be overrun with all the people supporting Annie. I love this.”

“It’s only fitting,” Annie said with a smirk. To Sohan, she said, “Thank you for your assistance in this.”

“Entirely my pleasure,” he said. His smile grew dark as he added, “If only to destroy the man who made friends of my family suffer.”

“That’s the plan,” Annie said, her smile just as dark.

————

It was agreed that it would be better to have very few visitors coming to call on their house. There was no call for most of the assassins to visit; they would only provide people to question in the future. Sohan was their point of contact for the interim, as nobles sent their replies and intent to visit Mitras.

This left the house entirely open to visitors from Mitras. Given Levi and Shardis regularly standing guard, the only visitors that were welcome were those that served a purpose. First and foremost was Sohan, providing his updates on assassins arriving in Mitras and where they were staying. The second was Freida, and she arrived a fortnight after her rescue with an eager smile, Valentine Morrel, and a pair of burly MP officers who failed to make an impression on Shardis. Historia was the one who came to the door; it made Freida’s smile grow bright.

“Hello, Christa!” she said.

“Hello, Vögelchen,” Historia replied with a smile. “Annie said you’d be here today. You and Miss Morrel can come right in.”

Freida all but skipped inside when Historia let her pass. Valentine followed with much more decorum, and Historia closed and locked the door before the MP could join them. Freida did not notice the startled look on Valentine’s face as she looked at Historia with raised brows.

“Mikasa and Nótt are both here,” Historia said. “The MP can stand guard outside.”

“O-oh,” said Valentine. “Of course.” She gave the door a nervous glance as Nótt came lightly down the stairs, carrying a few books.

“Nótt!” Freida said, hurrying to meet her. “Hello!”

“Hello, Miss Freida,” Nótt chuckled. “You’re in high spirits today.”

“I finally get to visit!” Freida said. “Papa said it’s all right for me to go out again!”

“You have marvelous timing,” Nótt said as she crouched down. “Look what Ymir and I managed to track down the other day.” She offered the books.

Freida took them carefully, eyes widening when she saw their covers. “Books from the north! These are so pretty!”

“Two books of legend and one novella for children,” Nótt said. “All illustrated by one of the best artists in Úlfurheim this century. And,” she said, tapping Freida’s nose, “yours to keep.”

She gasped, eyes widening further. “Really?”

“Really.” She startled when Freida put the books down and sprang up to hug her round the neck. Valentine blushed when Nótt and Historia looked at her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Freida is—Duke Reiss doesn’t—he doesn’t let her act like a little girl, so when she’s on her own like this, she…gets very silly.”

“Children will be silly!” Historia laughed. “It’s all right!” To Freida, she said, “Would you like to read in the den? Ymir and I are going to practice playing our instruments soon.”

“You can play?” Freida asked. “Papa says my hands are too little whenever I ask to learn.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Historia said, waving a hand. “Kaiserin Nasya had very delicate hands and she was incredibly talented at the piano. And you make violins for children—Kaiser Matvey _and_ Count Ackerman had violins made for me.”

Freida stared at her, eyes full of longing, but she grew shy and quiet. Nótt smiled and picked up both Freida and the books.

“I’m sure Christa would be happy to let you look at her violin,” she said. “Come along.”

Her shyness numbed her tongue, but her eyes were bright as Nótt carried her into the den, Historia and Valentine following. Annie, sitting in one chair with a piece of wood and carving tools in her lap, looked up at the sound of their footsteps. She smirked at the sight of Nótt and Freida.

“You two look like mismatched siblings,” she chuckled. “Hello again, Freida.”

“Hello, your majesty,” Freida said quietly, looking down as she blushed. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Her smirk returned. “You don’t have to be that formal. No one is going to tell on you if you call me by my name.”

“Papa says I have to always be polite,” Freida said with a pout.

“Think of it this way,” Annie said. “Duke Reiss does not control this house. I do. And while you’re here, you don’t have to do as he’s said.”

Freida slowly looked up as Valentine turned to stare at Annie. In unison, they both began to smile, Valentine with relief and Freida with excitement.

“And as long as you don’t go around breaking things or being extremely rude,” said Annie, “you can do what you want. You’re still very young and you should be free to play.”

She looked as though she would cry from happiness, hugging Nótt tightly as she said, “Thank you!”

Nótt laughed and said, “Annie’s the one to thank, Vögelchen, not me!”

“But you’re closer!” Freida protested.

She laughed again and sat down in a chair. “Fair enough.” As she set Freida on her feet, she said, “Have Christa show you her violin before she starts playing. It’ll help you tell your father that _you_ can play with the right instrument.”

Utterly breathless, Freida hurried over to Historia as she opened her violin case. She stayed very quiet, keeping her hands to herself, while Historia showed her the violin, its bow, and even the small block of rosin. Annie watched them for a time before smiling, shaking her head, and looking at her carving. Though she made a few careful etchings to define a lion’s mane, she stopped when she realized there were eyes on her. She looked up to find Valentine trying not to stare at her.

“Yes?” she said.

Valentine went pale. She swallowed. With a very soft voice, she said, “Lady Renz said that Reichsgräfin Ackerman is also here now.” She swallowed again and, looking ill, said, “Duke Reiss asked me to deliver a message to her.”

Annie looked at her without expression. After a moment, she said, “She is. She’ll be down in a few minutes, so please have a seat.”

Still pale, Valentine nodded and sat on a lounge to watch Freida. Nótt watched the both of them, eyes narrow as she concentrated. Valentine’s dress was light for the warm day; it was too thin to conceal weaponry or even the envelope in her pocket. Her long hair was loose; it carried no pins that could hold poison. She looked at Annie from the corner of her eye and nodded slightly. Annie nodded in turn and began to carve again.

Valentine jumped at the sound of approaching footsteps, barely relaxing when Ymir and Armin came into the room. She took a cup of coffee from the tray Armin offered, but did not drink as Freida hurried to hug Ymir’s legs in greeting. Nótt took a cup as well, eyes drifting to the door as she sipped her coffee. The next set of footsteps nearly made Valentine drop her cup.

“I apologize for not greeting you sooner,” Mikasa said as she came into the room. She stopped short when Freida hugged her legs as well. Smiling, she reached down to pat her head. “I’m glad to see you too, Miss Freida.”

“Thank you for letting me visit,” Freida said, smiling brightly.

“Of course,” she said. “It looks like Christa’s showing you her violin. Are you interested in playing an instrument?”

She nodded, saying, “Christa said Annie’s mother could play the piano, but she had small hands.”

“All it ever takes is patience and practice,” said Mikasa. “Why don’t you watch her play?”

Freida nodded, going to sit on the floor in front of Historia. Snickering, Ymir picked her up and carried her to sit on the lounge with Valentine. As Ymir retrieved her cello, Freida sat up straight to listen.

“Miss Valentine has a message from Duke Reiss, Mikasa,” Annie said quietly.

Mikasa stopped in the middle of reaching for a book on a nearby shelf. She turned about to face Valentine. Valentine went bone pale.

“I,” said Valentine. Her voice failed.

She raised a brow. “I apologize. I had asked for coffee to be served, but it may be too warm for that today. Please come have some water.” She gently took the cup from Valentine’s hands, beckoning as she left the room. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Valentine followed her to the kitchen, pouring the coffee down the sink before fetching a clean glass. As Valentine filled the glass with water and took a shaky sip, Mikasa leaned against the counter a few feet away. When Annie and Nótt came into the kitchen, Valentine did not flinch.

“It must be an unpleasant message,” Mikasa murmured, “if you’re so unhappy to deliver it.”

“It’s,” Valentine said, and she went quiet. She set the glass down and reached into her pocket. The envelope she retrieved was decorated in designs red and gold. Her mouth twisted as she stared at it.

“That looks like an invitation of some sort,” Nótt said. “Is something wrong?”

Valentine sighed in a shaky exhale. Her shoulders began to tremble as she looked at Mikasa. “I feel safe in assuming that you’re aware of what kind of man Rhode Reiss is.”

Mikasa raised a brow. “Given your behavior around him the other day and how readily you put yourself out of Freida’s earshot…it seems you think he’s an unpleasant man.”

She bit her lip, toying with the envelope. “That’s a very polite way of putting it.” She swallowed. “I kn-know you won’t believe me when I s-say this, but…but this invitation is my death sentence.”

They all froze, staring at her. Annie spoke first and said, “Who’s supposed to kill you? Us?”

“I’m sure that’s how he’ll spin it,” Valentine said, voice weakening.

“But we’ve never had any intention of doing either you or Freida harm,” Nótt said to protest.

“I know,” Valentine said, shaking even more. “But anyone who’s worked for Reiss for any length of time knows that delivering an invitation like this means that you’ll vanish at the party.” Her breath hitched. “It’s because Freida was kidnapped while I was watching her—this is my punishment.”

Mikasa’s brows dropped as she looked at Nótt, but Nótt had already taken a small notebook and pen from her waistcoat.

“Miss Valentine,” Nótt said, moving close to whisper, “I want you to tell me your address, where your husband works, and what his work hours are.”

“Wh-what?”

“We have no intention of letting you be hurt,” Mikasa said. “Nor will we let your husband be hurt. We know exactly what kind of man Reiss is, and I have a feeling I know what the invitation is for.” She held out a hand. “Give me the invitation and give Nótt the information she asks for.”

“But—Freida—”

“Is under our protection, I promise. Please let me see the invitation.”

Though she hesitated, Valentine handed her the envelope. As she began to speak in Nótt in shaking whispers, Mikasa opened the envelope and read the invitation. A black, cold smile slowly grew on her face as Annie came to stand at her side; she lowered the invitation to let her read.

“A masquerade ball in one month,” Mikasa said quietly. “To honor the lost kaiserin of Liūtas before she returns home.” She snorted a laugh thick with derision, handing the invitation over. Annie took it, reading it through three times.

“We’re all invited,” Annie said. “He’s even going to have Soames here.” Her brows dropped. “Mikasa. Do you think he’s really going to try to kill all of us there?”

“He’s planning on taking us down _with_ him,” Mikasa muttered. “If he’s pulling Soames out of Liūtas _now_ , he’s willing to let any and all information about Historia get out without any interference. He’s willing to let that happen…but that doesn’t make sense as to why he’d feel safe about assaulting us there.” Her eyes widened; she lifted her head as she looked toward the den. “Wait. He couldn’t.”

Valentine heard her, looking up. “Your excellency?”

Mikasa went pale as a thought fell into place, even as rage filled her. “ _No_.” She put a hand to her brow. “He _couldn’t_.”

“Mikasa?” Annie said.

“He’s trying to make us play his game,” Mikasa said, starting to scowl. “The ball is the end of it—having Freida and Valentine visit like this is just another step.” She let her hand drop to the counter as she glared at the ceiling. “That son of a bitch.”

“Your excellency?” Valentine asked. “What’s going on?”

Annie looked between them, taking in the shock and the anger; Nótt stood by with surprise on her face. She frowned, sighed through her nose, and said, “I think we need to talk about this with everyone else. Freida as well.”

Mikasa looked at her. She looked at Valentine and Nótt. She took a slow, deep breath to quell the anger. Sighing, she said, “You’re right. We have to make sure he doesn’t take the advantage.”

Valentine stared. “What? What advantage?”

“Miss Valentine,” Nótt said. “I’m afraid we’ve gotten you involved in something unpleasant. But you have my word that you and your husband will be all right.”

Because Valentine’s pallor only increased, Annie put a hand on her shoulder. “Come back into the den. We’ll explain.”

Hesitantly, she nodded, and she followed them back into the den. Historia and Ymir stopped playing when they arrive; Freida followed their gaze. Though she had been smiling, the sight of Valentine so pale and anxious made her stare. With remarkable speed, she got off the lounge and hurried to hug Valentine’s legs.

“Freida?” Valentine said. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want you to disappear,” Freida said against her knees.

She stared. “What? I’m—I’m not going to do that.”

“You look like people do when Papa makes them disappear!” Freida said. “I don’t want him to make you disappear!”

They all gaped at her; Armin and Ymir’s jaws dropped. Valentine knelt down, putting her hands on Freida’s shoulders.

“What’re you saying?” she asked. “Do you think he’s made people disappear?”

Freida nodded, sniffing hard as her eyes grew wet. “He made Mister Albert disappear after he told me about Liūtas! He said Mister Albert had to go home to his family, but Mister Albert told me his parents are gone and he didn’t have brothers or sisters!”

“Your history tutor last year,” Valentine said weakly. “He told you it couldn’t have been Liūtan citizens who killed the kaiser and kaiserin.” She exhaled slowly, petting Freida’s hair. “Oh, sweetheart, I remember how much you liked him.”

“And then Papa made him disappear!” Freida said. “I don’t want you to disappear, too!” She sniffed again, starting to cry. “I don’t want him to make people disappear anymore! It’s mean and I hate it and he always does it to people who teach me things he doesn’t like!” She hid her face in her arms and sobbed, “I hate _him_!”

For a long while, none of them moved. Then, slow and gentle, Historia moved to sit next to Freida. She touched Freida’s cheek, waiting until she looked up. Even then, she fumbled with her words.

“Freida,” she said, “have…have you noticed that…you and I look very similar? Like our eyes?”

Though Freida said nothing from confusion, Valentine stared at Historia in abject shock.

“Papa says I have _his_ eyes,” Freida said, voice small.

“You do,” Historia said. “And so do I.” She took a deep breath and said, “We both have his eyes. Because he’s our father. My real name is Historia Reiss.”

Freida stared. Valentine gaped as her eyes darted back and forth between Freida, Historia, and Annie.

“He’s your papa, too?” Freida asked.

“He’s my father,” Historia said. “But my papa was Kaiser Matvey, the same as Annie. My mama was Kaiserin Nasya…the same as Annie. Annie is my half-sister.” She swallowed hard. “Rhode Reiss tried to make all of us disappear. That’s what happened twelve years ago.”

The confusion fell away for horror. She stared at Historia, and then at Annie. She began to cry again, now with horrible earnest. Once again, they all froze. Mikasa and Annie looked at Nótt. Nótt swallowed, nodded, and went to sit next to Historia.

“Freida?” she said. “Vögelchen, could you look at me?”

Freida shook her head, hiding her face.

“Are you worried that you’re going to disappear, too?”

She nodded.

Nótt smiled gently, touching Freida’s chin. “It won’t happen. We’re going to keep you safe no matter what. You, Miss Valentine, and Mister Maximillien will be all right.”

“B-but,” Freida cried, “but P-Papa—”

“Our goddess Löwengöttin forbids us from blaming the child for a parent’s wrongdoing,” Nótt said. “Even without that rule, no one could blame you. We’ll never punish you for him.” When Freida looked up at her, face covered in tears, she continued to smile. “You are safe, and you have a home in the Basanti house to _be_ safe.”

“What a-about Miss Valentine and Mister Max?” Freida asked.

“I will be more than happy to find them jobs in the Basanti house to keep them safe.” She tilted her head, touching Freida’s nose. “Would you like that once all of this is over? My mother could find you all the northern stories you’d ever want.” Her brows rose when Freida sat down in her lap, arms around her neck, and nodded against her shoulder. After a moment, she put her arms around Freida and patted her back.

“Thank you,” Valentine said weakly, looking between all of them. “But—what’s going on? What do you think Reiss is going to do?”

“He knows that Historia is his daughter,” Annie said. “And he knows that _I_ know he’s the reason my parents died and why Historia and I needed Mikasa’s help to escape Liūtas. He’s going to try and get rid of us in one night.” She looked at Freida while she was still hiding her face. “ _All_ of us.”

“You—no, you can’t be serious,” Valentine whispered.

“It would be the perfect excuse to have us executed,” Mikasa said. “Say that we played the two of you for fools and took advantage of a masquerade ball to kill you for sport or for revenge for Liūtas. All they would need to do is _accuse_ us—Reiss would create false evidence that a court would take without question. I’m sure he’s done it multiple times by now. After all, why question the true king of Sina?”

“But—then what do we do?”

“There are a large number of people coming to Mitras to act as our sword and shield,” Mikasa said. “The less you know of their skills, the better.”

Valentine opened her mouth, thought better of it, and nodded without speaking.

“Someone will get in touch with you and your husband within the next three days,” Mikasa said. “He’ll have further details about what to do.”

“How do we recognize him?”

She smiled. “He’s a ridiculously tall Pardian man with gold eyes and black hair. He’ll show you something embroidered with a red dragon.”

Valentine nodded again, whispering, “Thank you, your excellency.”

“It’s nothing,” Mikasa replied. “Please take as long as you need to compose yourselves before you go. I don’t want you to look distressed.”

“Let me put tea on,” Armin said, heading for the door. “It’ll only be a few minutes.”

Valentine nodded, following Nótt to a lounge when she stood up with Freida in her arms. When Valentine hugged the both of them,, Nótt looked distinctly panicked for a few seconds. Historia took pity by going to them and petting Freida’s head.

“It’ll be nice to have you as guests in Liūtas when this is settled,” she said when Freida looked at her.

Freida managed a small smile when she nodded, but she was very quiet for the rest of the morning. Before she and Valentine left, however, she took Historia’s hang.

“Could,” she said hesitantly, “could I…call you ‘sister’? When this is settled?”

Historia’s brows rose. She smiled and crouched down to hold Freida’s face in her hands. “You can, Vögelchen. I promise.” She met Freida halfway for a hug, rubbing her back gently.

“I’ll let Reiss know that you’ll be attending the ball,” Valentine said. “And Max and I will look for your friend.”

“We won’t let you down,” Mikasa said. “Until we meet again—wait, and hope for all good things.”

Valentine paused. She smiled. “A very good friend of Max’s father used to say that. Thank you.” She took the books Nótt offered before giving Freida her hand. With one more quiet “thank you,” they left with their MP escorts.

For a very long while, they all were silent. Mikasa and Nótt sat unmoving in the den, staring holes in the floor. Historia and Ymir put their instruments as quickly and quietly as they could. After nearly an hour of silence, Mikasa opened her mouth.

Someone knocked on the front door, making the others jump from shock. Nótt stood up, leaving the room to answer. The voice they heard was enough to make even Mikasa jump, and they stared as Nótt led Sohan into the den. Though his voice had been cheery at the door, none of that cheer was in his face as he went straight to Mikasa.

“Huling anino,” he said. “I assume you’ve been informed of this ball Reiss is throwing for her majesty.”

“One of his employees told us,” she replied. “We’re operating under the assumption that Reiss intends to kill Freida and her tutor and frame us for it. We need as many shadows as possible to guard us and them, active in the field or not. You need to visit her tutor to—”

“I’ll see that it’s done,” he said to interrupt, “but that’s not why I’m here.”

She stared. “What?”

“I received word from House Marcin and House Schreiber this morning,” he said, voice lowering with urgency. “Ian Marcin left Úlfurheim three weeks ago to act as a bodyguard for Drottning Schreiber and her husband. Huling anino, they’re coming _here_ specifically to meet Kaiserin Leonhardt. They’ve been invited to the ball and they’re going to attend.”

Mikasa went completely white. “Oh _fuck_.”

“Why is that a problem?” Armin asked, brows high and together with concern. “Couldn’t they help vouch for you if something happens?”

“Drottning Adhara and Kóngur Matvey _know who I am_ ,” Mikasa said. “I was hired to protect Adhara before her coronation because of tensions in the north. They’ve seen my face, know my voice, and I told Adhara _my name_.” She covered her face. “They could reveal that I’m an assassin in front of God knows how many people, including Reiss. And I can’t avoid meeting them if they want to meet Annie.”

“Then they’ll meet us,” said Annie.

Mikasa looked up.

“I’ll be the one to protect you this time,” Annie said. “If what Nótt said is true and House Schreiber supports me, they won’t reveal you. Especially if we start leaking information about Reiss’ previous assassination contracts _now_.” She looked at Sohan. “Assign the assassins and get a rumor started. See if you can get it in reputable newspapers—something out of Kiel or Dauper. We’ll get you one of the orders before you leave.”

He bowed deeply to her. “It will be done, your majesty.”

Annie nodded and went to Mikasa. She offered her left hand, turned so her ring was in view. “We’re almost done. You don’t get to panic now.”

Mikasa looked at her a moment before smiling and taking her hand. “I suppose it’s unbecoming for your Versprochene.”

“Only a little,” Annie replied with a smirk.

Mikasa chuckled and squeezed Annie’s hand. Annie squeezed back without hesitation; it was all Mikasa needed to grow calm once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Asul-Leon" = blue lion in Tagalog  
> "Roten Drachen" = red dragon in German  
> "Pagtugmain" = harmonize, coordinate in Tagalog
> 
> And yes, the king and queen of Úlfurheim are exactly who you think I'm referencing.


	11. The Night of Masks and Shadows, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month slips away with plans, scheming, and recruiting as many shadows as possible. The night of the ball arrives without incident, but with every indication that Reiss plans for something horrible to happen.
> 
> Guards are stationed. Rumors spread through the crowd.
> 
> And everything hinges on the outcome of dances through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha _ha_ , oh god what a work-related stress-induced hiatus that was. Back to business!

A month was more than enough time to work oneself into a panic, but Annie forbade it outright. She set the standard the first day, directing Sohan with such aplomb that he never glanced at Mikasa for confirmation. He left the townhouse with three of Reiss’ old orders and instructions to summon as many assassins as he could within two weeks.

Historia was set to writing letters to Erwin and noble houses close to the Liūtan coast. Each letter was signed with “Historia R., ward of Kaiser Matvey Leonhardt,” and they were sent by hawk every other day. Levi, Eren, and Armin went into the streets to hunt down any and all information about the ball and who would be in attendance. Petra and Hanji went out to gather new clothes and masks for the ball; Shardis was happy to stand guard and glare at passersby.

Nótt’s task was simple when said aloud: she had to make sure no one from Úlfurheim visited the townhouses. The difficulty lay in finding them, as the letter from Ian Marcin had stated he would be housing the royals in a secret location for the duration of their stay in Sina.

“Mother said Drottning Adhara is charming and stubborn,” Nótt said, pacing around the den after the third day of wandering the city. “I’m worried I’ll let her talk me into bringing her here.” She shook her head before any of them could speak, rapping her knuckles on her forehead. Still, she sighed heavily.

“Look, if you need someone to kick you in front of her or Kóngur Matvey, I’ll go out with you,” Ymir said. “Better for her to talk to _two_ wolves instead of you being a dumb starstruck pup.”

“Take Ymir with you,” Mikasa said. “Any familiar people for Adhara to talk to at the ball instead of finding me will help.” She smiled and added, “Ymir is quite talented at talking to royalty now.”

Nótt nodded to agree and continued to pace. She went out with Ymir from then on, but day after day came and went without any indication that the Schreiber royals or Ian Marcin were present. A week went by with no new information from any contact of theirs. Even Freida and Valentine had gone quiet, no letters delivered from or sent to them.

Mitras, by contrast, grew livelier with each passing day. Word had gotten out about the ball the day after Freida and Valentine’s visit and gossip spread as fast as a wildfire. Nobility from Sina, Liūtas, and Úlfurheim had been invited and, based on Levi’s report ten days on, all of them had RSVPed. Armin, returning on the eleventh day with a black eye that nearly made Eren pass out from indignant rage, brought more news.

“There’s a _huge_ demand for invites!” he said with a grin. “There’s people _forging_ invites! One of them hit me when I said he forged the ones he was selling, that’s how badly people want them!”

“Tell me where he is so I can kill him,” Eren snarled.

Mikasa smiled darkly. “No, we want him alive.”

“He hit Armin!”

“He’s giving our shadows a way in,” she replied. “Any forgers are.” She smirked and, turning to Levi, asked, “Have you heard if Reiss has made any changes to the venue?”

“Not today, at least,” he said. “Still at the palace, so it should handle almost any number of people.”

“Then we should be fine with forged invites.” She sat back in her chair and looked at the ceiling as she thought. The sounds Eren made as he forced Armin to sit were not at all distracting, instead helping her focus. After a few minutes, she turned to him.

“Eren?” she said.

“What?” he asked.

“How badly do you want to upset Reiss at the moment?”

“I’d go chuck eggs at his face,” he grumbled.

She smiled. “How about introducing the rumor about Historia’s birthright to the citizens of Mitras?”

He went still. He turned around. “Are you serious?”

“I think you deserve to be seditious,” she said. “If only to keep you away from those forgers. We need to get word out _here_ more than anywhere.”

He remained still for a few seconds longer before grinning. “I’d be happy to, your excellency.”

Mikasa sent him out to the neighborhoods of the lower middle class, Armin going to the middle class after covering his black eye with small touches of makeup. Levi continued on in gathering information about the ball, getting closer to the palace to learn about any jobs that would be available. By the thirteenth day, the count for temporary jobs had risen to fifty and continued to climb.

It took until the fourteenth day for anything eventful to happen. Halfway through the morning when Eren, Armin, Levi, Ymir, and Nótt had already gone into the city, Hanji came into the house and the den with a grin on their face.

“You have guests, excellency!” they said, bowing to Mikasa. “May Petra and I show them in?”

“You’re not usually this excited about guests in Mitras,” Mikasa said. “Go on.”

Hanji continued to grin as they rushed back outside. They returned with Petra and two people that made Mikasa stare. She took to her feet and, hand over her heart, bowed to Kailas and a young Pardian woman she did not recognize.

“I thought you were retired, Kailas,” Mikasa said as she straightened up.

“Oh, I am,” Kailas replied. “This is simply a favor to a friend.” She chuckled. “I don’t intend to kill anyone, if that’s what you mean, huling anino.”

Mikasa smiled and said, “No, but I certainly give you leave to direct our shadows in the field if need be.” Her eyes moved to the young woman; confusion made her hesitate.

The woman smiled brightly and bowed to her. “I apologize for confusing you, huling anino, but we never met before you were put in Utgard. My number is nineteen fifty-one, but my public name is Asmara Arav.”

“Sohan’s wife?” she asked. “He said you and your daughter couldn’t travel.”

“Sohan…coddles,” Asmara said as weariness tinged her smile. “Our daughter is three months now and he’s running himself ragged with this.”

“Agalon Arav, his wife, and one guest will be attending the ball,” Kailas said, smirking. “We’ll be staying with Sohan for the interim, Hova and our granddaughter included.”

Mikasa laughed. “I’ll let Nótt know. She’s determined to visit you once this is done.”

“We’ll be happy to have her,” Asmara replied. “But for the business at hand, we’re here to give you our final numbers.”

Annie and Historia, sitting by and trying to look like they were reading, looked up with focus in their eyes. They waited patiently as Mikasa, Kailas, and Asmara took a chair each, but they moved to the edge of their seats.

“In total,” said Asmara, “we’ll have thirty shadows from Sina, ten from Úlfurheim, twenty from Liūtas, and fifteen from Pardus. It’s not the eighty Sohan and I would like, but it’ll cover guests and staff.”

“How do we tell who the assassins are?” Historia asked. “Especially at a masquerade?”

“Those of us who will wear sleeves with cuffs will have a red X stitched over a button on the right sleeve’s cuff,” Asmara replied. “Those without cuffs will have the X as one of the stitches used to hold their sleeves up.”

“Then this is instead of your rings,” Historia said.

“Correct,” said Kailas. “We cannot have such an obvious link between all of us. Only two people will be wearing a ring from Uncia.”

“Mikasa and Annie?”

“Her majesty and _you_ ,” Asmara said. “Huling anino won’t need protection, but you two will.”

“Do you have rings that will fit us?” Annie asked.

“We have several shadows with small hands. I’ll check your ring sizes before we leave and I’ll have the appropriate sizes sent in two days.”

Historia took a deep breath. “So we’re really doing this. In two weeks, we’ll be able to go home.”

“Are you worried about what will happen at the ball?” Mikasa asked.

“A little,” she said quietly. “If what Valentine said is true, Reiss really might try to kill her and Freida at the ball. We don’t know that he won’t try to kill _us_ there.”

Kailas smiled. “Your highness, all you need to do is point them out and we will guard them without fail. There will be no death that night save what is done by our shadows. You will return to Liūtas unharmed.”

“I trust Uncia,” said Historia. “I don’t trust Reiss.”

“None of us do,” Annie said. “But we’ll get through this.”

Historia nodded, and the light in her eyes made it clear there was no uncertainty in her.

————

Whispers were all through the streets every day after that. Armin and Eren had found the best gossips in the city and told them the truth as a rumor: Christa Renz was an alias for Kaiser Leonhardt’s long-lost ward. A week later, they let the name “Historia” slip in casual conversation as they ferried everyone’s completed masks back to the townhouses.

There was no statement delivered from the Reiss or Raugraves houses. The arrival of Margrave Soames was marred by Levi introducing a mutter about Reiss’ mistresses before his late wife. The Liūtan nobles that arrived soon after did not help quiet the rumors, only pouring fuel on the fire. By the time the ball rolled around, all of Mitras had heard the culmination of the rumors: Sina, it was said, had a hand in Liūtas’ fall, the proof lived in the house of the Kaiserin, and the death of that proof had been only one of many orders.

They were all deeply pleased at how far the rumor had spread, none more so than Annie. She dressed in a dark blue suit to complement Mikasa’s formal coat, and her lioness mask was paired with Mikasa’s tigress. As it had been on the night she took back her name, her hair was up in a bun held by a braid.

Historia was dressed identically from her hair to her mask. They looked so alike that the only people who did not mistake them for each other were Mikasa, Ymir, and those who knew both buttonholes on Historia’s right cuff had been sewn over with red Xs alongside her ring. They set out for the palace once night had fallen properly, all in masks and all quiet. Even Eren, sitting next to Levi on the driver’s seat, did not fidget. They both sat tall in their suits and black domino masks, utterly ready.

“Ian replied to my last letter,” Nótt murmured in the carriage. “He’ll do what he can to keep Drottning Adhara busy, but he can’t promise anything.”

“Did he say what she’ll be dressed in?” Mikasa asked.

“A red wolf mask and a red suit. Her hair will be loose to make it look like the mask goes over her head.”

“And her husband?” Annie asked.

“A black wolf, black suit, and a red handkerchief in his breast pocket. One of the wolf’s ears will be white. Two other shadows will be watching them under Ian’s command.”

“No one better try anything against them,” Ymir said. Her scowl was dark, visible thanks to her half-mask of a black wolf.

“I did not protect her to see her die now,” Mikasa said. “They’ll both be fine.” She adjusted her cuffs and asked, “Did we receive word from Valentine about what she’ll be dressed in?”

“A half-mask of a gold tabby cat,” Nótt replied. “Light blue dress.” She sighed. “And she said that Freida will be in attendance. White dress and three-quarter gold sparrow mask. Reiss made quite a show of giving them to Frieda.”

“Then he plans on killing both of them there,” Mikasa said quietly. “Nótt, find the Aravs when we arrive. They will guard Freida and Valentine tonight.”

Nótt bowed her head, hand over her heart. They were quiet from then on, waiting and listening as the sound of the carriage wheels was overtaken by the rabble of partygoers on the way to the palace. Mikasa felt Annie reaching for her hand and met her halfway.

“Before Winter’s Sun, Leon-Hiyas,” she whispered. “I’ll keep that promise.”

“I know,” Annie whispered back. She looked at Historia when the carriage began to slow down. Historia took a deep breath, adjusted her mask, and nodded. Nótt was the first to her feet when the carriage stopped, and she stepped out once Eren had opened the door and lowered the steps. She offered her help to Historia and Ymir, but moved aside for Mikasa and Annie.

Mikasa took the moment she helped Annie out of the carriage to center herself. On her back, she felt the warmth of all the lights strung along the footpath through the open palace gates. On either side, she heard the chatter of other guests. As Annie stepped out of the carriage, the chatter became a furious buzz of gossip hidden behind hands and fans. They both turned as Levi jumped down from the driver’s seat and moved to gather the reins. A valet, a young woman of Sina descent, hurried up when Levi looked about.

“Please, sir, allow me!” she said. She offered her left hand; her rolled sleeve was held up with a red X of a stitch. Levi passed the reins to her, moving away to let her climb up. He adjusted his red tie, waited until Eren had done the same, and looked to Annie.

“After you, your majesty,” he said, bowing his head.

Mikasa gave Annie her arm. They set off down the path to the palace, Nótt in the lead with Ymir and Historia following closely. Annie and Mikasa came after them with Eren and Levi at a respectable distance. The ambient noise was loud enough to bury the sound of shutters from the cameras of excited reporters, but Mikasa saw them all the same. Palace guards held them at bay near the gates, no fewer than thirty clustered there.

The grounds opened only a few yards away from the gates, all a luscious sprawl of green grass and clean cobbled stone. All along the lawn were strings of lights and stands of finger foods on ice. Unmasked servants wandered with platters of drinks, their aprons crisp white and their blazers pitch black. They dodged around children playing tag without so much as looking stressed.

They let the crowd and the servants be their guide, moving unerringly inward on the grounds toward the grand courtyard. In masks and as quiet as they were, no one took much notice of them. It was something Mikasa was grateful for, as it gave her time to look for red Xs in the crowd around them. Her stride faltered when she saw a one-armed man in full Liūtan military garb wearing a three-quarter mask of a gold-streaked grizzly bear.

“Nótt,” she said. “This way for a moment.”

Nótt turned neatly, saw the man, and headed toward him without question. He turned and smiled when he spotted them. He tipped his mask up to reveal his face, and Historia rushed forward to hug Erwin tight. The shock that appeared on his face made Ymir snicker.

“That’s Historia,” she murmured after coming closer. “Annie’s still on Mikasa’s arm.”

“Ah,” Erwin said, looking sheepish. He patted Historia’s back after lowering his mask, turning to Annie and Mikasa after that. “There are seventy Liūtan citizens here tonight. Most are nobles, but…I apologize for this, your majesty, but I’ve brought fifteen soldiers as well. I don’t want anything to happen.”

“It’s all right,” Annie said. “How do we recognize them?”

“Just look for people with blue and gold handkerchiefs in their pockets.”

“Thank you, Commander. We have a number of guards as well.”

Erwin glanced at Mikasa; she nodded slightly. He took a deep breath and whispered, “How much danger are you in?”

“Not so much as Reiss’ legitimate daughter,” Annie replied. “At least not immediately. We’re assuming that he’s going to kill her and her tutor here tonight and frame us for it.”

He frowned. “Of course he would.” Again looking to Mikasa, he asked, “Your guards will protect them? Having Liūtan citizens near them all night will be suspicious.”

“They will, Commander,” she said. “Without fail.”

Erwin nodded. “Then I leave them in your care, Reichsgräfin.” He reached out to lay his hand on Nótt’s shoulder. “Viscountess, guard our Kaiserin and our Fürstin.”

She bowed her head, hand over her heart. “It will be done, sir.”

He patted her shoulder with a smile, heading off on his own then. As he walked away, Mikasa spotted two unusually tall people accompanied by a much shorter third. All three wore three-quarter masks of dragons, one black, one red, and one blue.

“Nótt,” she said quietly. She tipped her head toward the trio and said, “Make sure they know who to guard. We’ll head inside.”

Nótt nodded and went straight for them. Mikasa gestured to the open doors past the courtyard and below a balcony that stretched around the palace. Annie gripped her arm tighter; Mikasa saw Historia do the same to Ymir. With the number of wolf masks around them, Mikasa felt the urge to grip Annie’s hand in turn.

“Nothing ventured,” Eren murmured behind her.

“True enough,” she said over her shoulder, and she smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He smiled in turn and she led the way through the courtyard. Though there were many whispers that followed in their wake, no one moved to speak to them. Music began to filter through the chatter as they drew closer to the open doors. Mikasa caught sight of people dancing in the ballroom when she looked over people’s heads.

Much as it had been on the night of her debut in Xenten, the music and dancing was lively. The masks served to make their wearers bold: she saw almost no hesitance in any of the dancers. Servants weaved their way through the crowd at the doors. Two servers, both of Úlfurheim descent and both with red X stitches on their rolled-up sleeves, spotted them on their approach and moved aside to let them inside.

They were immediately set upon by four men, all Sina-born. Each offered a hand for a dance, but Annie and Historia spoke in such perfect unison they sounded like a single person.

“Our first dances are reserved,” they said, and Mikasa let herself match Ymir’s smug grin as they walked away and onto the dance floor. A great number of people who had been resting at the tables nearby returned to the floor, and the band struck up a new song to greet them.

It was far too early to consider slow waltzes, and the band certainly did not try to play for that pace. As a quartet of fiddlers set the tempo, Mikasa gave Annie both hands, right crossed over left. Annie mirrored her, and when the fiddlers were joined by trumpets, they joined the crowd in a great sweeping step to the right.

Three circles were made, one inside the other, and the shorter partner moved on the inside of each. Historia and Ymir stayed close through each step and sashay, always the mirror of Annie and Mikasa. The circles fractured to let the innermost circle slip outside and the others move inward. In the boisterous clapping that marked every other step they took, not a soul noticed that Annie and Historia traded partners.

Mikasa used each turn around the circle to watch who was nearest to them. Clothing and masks gave her rough estimates of the citizenry all around. A great number of men and women around them were dressed in shades of blue and gold, and many wore masks of felines. When they saw Annie and Historia, smiles appeared on their faces before they started whispering to their partners.

The circles shifted again, bringing them to the center and Annie back to Mikasa’s hands. In close quarters, the taller partners took infinite care in placing their feet. There was such deep pride in Historia’s eyes for Ymir’s grace that men near them grew embarrassed by proxy. The fanfare of the trumpets that signaled the breaking of the circles was timed with Annie and Historia being lifted from their feet for a spin. They laughed as they went to reform the outer circle.

“May we have this dance?”

They turned to see Nótt and the Aravs waiting at the outer circle. Historia giggled as she took Kailas’s offered arm, Ymir choking on her own giggles as she went with Sohan. Annie took Nótt’s hands, leaving Mikasa with Asmara to start the dance again.

“We’ve located Freida and Valentine, huling anino,” Asmara whispered in her ear on the first close turn Mikasa brought her through. “Valentine recognizes Sohan in his mask.”

“And Freida?” Mikasa asked when she spun Asmara on her toes.

“Valentine has told her to trust dragons who call her ‘vögelchen.’ Sohan and I will take turns dancing with Valentine while Kailas keeps an eye on Freida.”

“Thank you. Have any of you seen Drottning Schreiber and her entourage?”

“Not yet. She may not be here yet—we haven’t even seen Ian Marcin.”

Mikasa sighed. “All right. Keep your eyes on Valentine and Freida. We’ll handle the Schreibers when they arrive.”

“It will be done, huling anino,” Asmara murmured, and she was gone when the circles changed. Annie moved to dance with Ymir, Nótt taking Historia’s hands, and Mikasa took the hands of a young man in a lion mask and a red X on his cuff. The circles were cycled through once more in their entirety before the band finished the song. All those who had heard their playing applauded politely, and Mikasa led the way off the floor to the cooler air near the great windows lining the walls.

“The servants working for us all know us now,” Nótt murmured. “They haven’t said that anything is being poisoned, but only take food or drink from them.”

“Have you seen Freida yet?” Annie asked.

“Not personally. A few Liūtan guests have seen her playing with other children.” Her mouth twisted. “ _Trying_ , rather.”

Historia sighed. “People have probably told their children to avoid her so she doesn’t get them in trouble with Reiss.”

“I’m sure she’s scared right now,” Annie said.

“I trust Kailas to keep her safe,” Mikasa said.

Ymir stared. “The _scary one_ is watching her?”

“She’s very good with children. It’ll be fine.”

Intense skepticism in her eyes, Ymir took flutes of champagne for herself and Historia when a woman with a red X on her sleeve offered them. Annie and Mikasa abstained, only moving to take finger foods from trays watched by two more assassins. Nótt took nothing and watched the other guests.

The pause between dances was brief, but they did not all go back out. Historia took Mikasa’s hand to bring her along, and Nótt followed close behind while Annie and Ymir hung back. As they moved across the dance floor in a fast-paced Walzer to a Liūtan melody, Mikasa caught sight of the way Liūtan nobles looked at Historia.

In their eyes was the same excited reverence that had been present when Annie had been her partner. In their conversations were the rumors that had spread, and in their conversations was the certainty that it had to be the Kaiserin dancing with the crimson tigress. When partners were traded and Historia went to dance with Nótt, Mikasa took the hands of an older Liūtan man a few inches taller than herself. He led with great grace, and the way he leaned close was not intrusive.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” he whispered to her.

“Sonnenlöwin,” Mikasa whispered back.

“And her sister?” he asked as he looked toward Annie and Ymir.

“Yes. I’m going to bring them home, I swear.”

His relief was palpable. As the dance ended, he bowed to her to kiss the back of her hand. “May Löwengöttin bless you forever, your excellency.”

Mikasa bowed in turn as Historia and Nótt returned. The man bowed deeply to Historia before striding off toward a cluster of Liūtan citizens. Nótt in the lead, they went back to Annie and Ymir.

“It’s working,” Nótt whispered. “The people I’ve danced with from Sina and Úlfurheim cant’t tell them apart.”

“Then the people skulking around won’t be able to, either,” Mikasa said. She inhaled deeply and took her watch from her coat pocket. “Quarter to nine. Sina masquerades end at midnight…the guest of honor is unmasked by the host.” She put her watch away and said, “Three hours to make sure he gets it wrong.”

“We still have to worry about the other guests,” Annie said. She glanced about. “I’d be happier if I knew where the Schreibers are right now.”

“We’ll know when they arrive,” Mikasa said. “I doubt they’ll be quiet about it, given what I remember about them.”

“That much is certain,” Nótt said. “Drottning Adhara is…uh.”

“ _Silly_ ,” Ymir mumbled. “Her husband’s not much better, from what I’ve heard.”

Historia stared. “They’re—silly?”

“Little bit,” Ymir sighed. “At least at parties. My pabbi told me stories about her and Kóngur Matvey being the life of any party they went to.”

Annie and Historia boggled. They looked at Mikasa, who sighed.

“We’ll take it as it comes,” she said. “And pray, I suppose.”

Nótt opened her mouth, but froze when the music suddenly changed. Ymir tilted her head to listen to the tune, fast and punctuated more with percussion and brass than before, and grinned.

“That’s a wolf’s waltz!” she said, and she offered her arm to Historia. “C’mon, just like I showed everyone!”

Historia went off with her, Nótt hurrying after them. Annie and Mikasa followed as well, joining all of them on the dance floor. Confusion was obvious in unequal measure in Sina nobles as they tried to follow the lead from Úlfurheim and Liūtas. It was not until a man and a woman standing at the center of the square laughed aloud that the confusion’s tension broke.

“Fifteen to each side, hvolpar!” the man in a black wolf mask said. One of his mask’s ears was white; a red handkerchief was in his breast pocket.

“We want the Kaiserin to have a proper wolf’s waltz!” the tall woman in a red suit and wolf mask laughed. Her long red hair was loose; it looked as though her mask went over her head.

Mikasa barely managed to not look at Annie when she whispered, “ _Fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than usual due to high level end-of-year work burnout, but I wanted to get this up and going again.
> 
> "Pabbi" = Papa in Icelandic  
> "Hvolpar" = puppies in Icelandic


End file.
